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GEIER-WALLY: 

^ TALE OF THE TYROL. 


WILHELMINE VON HILLERN. 



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APPLETONS’ NEW HANDY-VOLUME SERIES. K - 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


A 

TALE OF THE TTEOL. 


FROM THE GERMAN OP 

WILHELMINE VON^HILLERN. 



APPLETON AND COMPANY, 

549 AND 661 BROADWAT. 

1879. 



Copyright, 1879, 

BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 


CONTENTS. 

♦— 

PAGE. 

CHAPTEK I. 

Joseph (the Bear) 14 

CHAPTER II. 

Unyielding 32 

CHAPTER III. 

Disowned 39 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Child op Murzoll 47 

CHAPTER V. 

Luckard 57 

CHAPTER VI. 

A Day at Home 71 

CHAPTER Vn. ■ 

Hard Wood 84 


4 


CONTENTS, 


PAGE. 

CHAPTER Vin. 

The Klotzes of Rofen 100 

CHAPTER IX. 

In the Wilderness 117 

CHAPTER X. 

The High-Peasant 142 

CHAPTER XI. 

At Last 168 

CHAPTER Xn. 

At Night 189 

CHAPTER XHL 

The Return to her Father 205 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The Message of Pardon 221 


GEIER-WALLY; 

OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 



HROUGH the depth of the Oetz Valley 
wandered a traveller. A young girl 
stood at a giddy height far above, who 
appeared in the distance like a rose of the Alps, 
but whose figure was clearly defined against the 
bright blue sky and the distant ice-peaks of the 
mountains. In spite of the strong wind, she 
maintained her position fii’mly and quietly, and 
looked down into the deep beneath, where the 
roaring Ache hurls itself into the ravine, and the 
sunbeams were refiected in prismatic rays upon 
the opposite precipice. The girl appeared to the 
traveller and his guide to be very small, as they 
wound their way up the narrow pathway, that 
led to a great height above the river, and, from 



6 


GEIEB-WALLT; 


the summit of the mountain, must have looked 
almost like a straw laid upon it. She could not 
hear them conversing; for no sound reached 
her, save the roaring of the water. She did not 
know that the guide, a stalwart chamois-hunter, 
as he raised his arm threateningly towards her, 
said to the stranger, “ That is probably the 
Geier-Wally (the Hawk) standing up there ; for 
no other girl would venture to stand on that pro- 
jection, so near the precipice. Just look ! one 
would think that the wind must blow her over. 
But then she always does the opposite of what 
every other Christian in his right mind would 
do.” 

As he spoke, they entered a damp, cold, and 
dark pine-wood. The guide stopped again, and 
gazed upwards, with the glance of an eagle, to 
where the young maiden stood, and where the 
little village just appeared in the full glow of 
the morning sun, that had hardly begun to steal 
its way into the narrow and gloomy abyss beneath. 
As he disappeared with his companion, he mut- 
tered, ‘‘ You needn’t look down so daringly ; for 
there is a pathway by which we can reach you.” 
At that moment, as though in defiance of his 
threat, the girl gave a shrill shout of joy, which 
resounded on all sides, and was borne on wings 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


7 


by the echo, into the profound stillness of the 
pine-forest, where, in dying away, it sounded 
like the unearthly cry of the fairies of the Oetz 
Valley, who are there supposed to be the enemies 
of chamois-hunters. 

“ Yes, shout away ! I will soon drive it out of 
you,” murmured he again. And, throwing him- 
self backwards, he sent forth a song of defiance 
and mockery, that rang through the hills like a 
post-horn. “ I wonder if she heard that.” 

“ Why do you call that girl up there the 
Geier-Wally? ” asked the stranger, while they 
were in the wood. 

“Because, sir, when a child she found a vul- 
ture’s nest, and fought with the mother,” said the 
Tyrolian. “ She is the handsomest and the 
strongest girl in all the Tyrol, and very rich 
besides ; and it is a real disgrace to see the way 
in which the men allow themselves to be sent 
home by her. No one has the courage to show 
her, once for all, that he will be master. She is 
as shy as a wild-cat, and as strong ; so that the 
boys say that they can none of them master her ; 
and, if any one approaches her too closely, over 
he goes. No ! but if I ever got up there, I would 
master her, or tear my feather and chamois-beard 
from my hat ! ” 


8 


GEIER-WALLY; 


“Why, then, if she be so rich and beautiful, 
do you not try your luck? ” asked the stranger. 
“ Oh ! you know I do not like girls who are half 
boys. It is true that she cannot help it. Her 
father (his name is Stromminger) is a clever, 
bad fellow. He was, in his day, the best fighter 
and the strongest man in the mountain ; and he 
still retains his reputation. The girl’s mother 
died on giving birth to this child ; and the father 
has brought her up like a boy, and knocked her 
about shamefully. That is why she is so wild 
and strong.” In all that the hunter told the 
stranger, he was not mistaken. The young girl 
above them was Wallburga Strommingerin, the 
powerful daughter of the “ high-peasant,” called, 
also, the Geier- Wally ; and she had well earned 
her surname. Her strength and courage were 
boundless, as though her mind were like the 
sharp, uneven ice-peaks on which the vultures 
build their nests, and on which the clouds of 
heaven seem to tear themselves to pieces. 

Wally, even in her childhood, always put the 
boys to shame ; and, whenever and wherever 
there was any danger, she was always to the fore. 
As a child, she was as wild and unmanageable as 
her father’s cattle, which she subdued. When 
she was hardly fourteen, a peasant discovered on 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYBOL. 9 

the edge of a sharp rock the nest of a golden 
vulture, with a young one in it ; hut no one in 
the village dared to carry the nest away. The 
high-peasant then declared, to the disgrace of 
the manly youths of the place, that his Wall- 
burga should fetch it ; and to the horror of the 
women, and the indignation of the men, Wally 
seemed quite ready for the perilous undertaking. 

“ High-peasant, you are tempting Heaven,’* 
said the men. But, in no wise daunted, the 
Stromminger would have his sport, and prove 
that the Robler race could not be equalled from 
one generation to the other. 

“You shall see,” cried he laughingly to the 
peasants, who had been assembling on all sides 
to witness what they deemed to be an almost 
impossible feat, “that one Stromminger girl is 
worth ten of your boys.” Many pitied the beau- 
tiful and stately child, who was, perhaps, to be 
sacrificed to a wicked boast of her parent. 
Nevertheless, they were all anxious to see it. 
As the side of the rock from which the nest 
hung was almost smooth, it was impossible for 
any human being to stand there ; and Wally had, 
therefore, to have a rope fastened round her 
waist. Four men, headed by her father, held it ; 
but, to the lookers-on, it was a horrible sight. 


10 


GEIER-WALLY; 


The child, armed merely with a knife, advanced 
to the edge of the plateau, and, with one spring, 
threw herself into the abyss below. It seemed 
to all as though God must punish such a wilful 
sacrifice of a child’s existence. If the rope 
should give way ! or she should be torn in pieces 
by the vulture! or suppose she should be cast 
against a sharp edge of the rock ! 

Meanwhile, Wally was sailing, without fear, 
through the air, halfway down the precipice, 
where, with a shout of joy, she welcomed the 
little vulture, who, on receiving this strange visit, 
flapped its wings, and raised its head towards 
her, snapping with its beak. Without hesitating, 
she seized the bird, which began to screech, with 
her left hand, and put it under her arm. At the 
same moment something tore through the air, 
and all became dark about her ; while it seemed 
as though a shower of hailstones was beating 
down upon her head. Her only thought was, 
“ My eyes I Save my eyes I ” and, pressing her 
face against the rock, she fought blindly with her 
right hand against the infuriated bird, which was 
attacking her with its beak, claws, and wings. 
From above, the men were rapidly drawing her 
up. The struggle in the air lasted a little longer, 
when suddenly the vulture drooped its head, and 


OBy A TALE OF THE TYROL. H 

was hurled into the deep. Wally had probably 
wounded the bird with her knife. She was 
finally drawn up, covered with blood, and with 
her face cut by the rock ; but she still had the 
young bird, for which she had struggled so 
bravely, under her arm. 

“ Why, Wally ! if you had let the young one 
go, you would have soon been rid of the vul- 
ture ! ’’ cried they all. 

“Oh ! ” answered she simply, “ the poor little 
thing cannot fly yet; and, had I dropped it, 
it would have been killed in falling into the 
ravine.’’ 

Here it was that her father kissed her for the 
first and only time in her life ; not because he 
was touched by her great pity for the helpless 
bird, but because she had performed an act of 
heroism which honored the blood of the illus- 
trious Strommingers. 

Such was the girl, standing on the naiTow 
ledge of the rock, and looking down dreamily 
into the depth below her ; for a strange sensa- 
tion often came over her now in the midst of her 
impetuosity, and all would be still in her heart, 
and she would look out sadly, as though in the 
distance she saw something for which her soul 
yearned, and which she could not attain. The 


12 


GEIEB-WALLT; 


same picture rose always before her. It had 
followed her everywhere during the last year, and 
it never changed. By the light of early dawn, 
or in the bright glow of the noonday sun, at sun- 
set, or by moonlight, in the valley, or on the 
mountain, it always remained unaltered. And 
when she was alone, and her wild, doe-like eyes 
wandered over the bright, white sea of ice be- 
yond, or looked into the deep beneath, where 
the Ache wound its thundering way ; or when, 
from time to time, a traveller passed below her, 
although so far away that she could only recog- 
nize the human figure, — a peculiar joy came over 
her as she thought that it might be “ He ! 

As the two wanderers passed by her, she again 
thought, “ It is he ! ” Her heart seemed thrilled ; 
and, like a lark freed from prison, she opened her 
lips, and sent forth a joyful JodZer. As had hap- 
pened with the hunter, only a faint sound reached 
her, and she drank in every note of his answer ; 
for might it not be his voice ? And an expression 
of deep and warm feeling stole over her wild and 
defiant face ; for she did not know the carol to 
be one of scorn. Had she realized the nature of 
the hunter’s reply, dark shadows would have 
covered her face, and she would have become as 
pale as her own glaciers after sunset. Sitting 


022 , A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


13 


down on the stone, and hanging her feet over 
the rock, she buried her face in her hands, and 
allowed all her thoughts to glide by, one by one. 
How wonderful it had all been since she had first 
looked upon him ! 


14 


GEIER-WALLY; 


CHAPTER I. 

JOSEPH (the bear). 

^®OTj|UST twelve months before, at Whitsun- 
SS ^ tide, she had been taken by her father 
to Sblden to the confirmation service. 
As there was a high-road leading to 
that place, the bishop came there once in every 
two years. She felt a certain shyness in going ; 
for she was already sixteen years old, and very 
tall for her age. Her father had not allowed her 
to be confirmed earlier, as, according to his ideas, 
love and matchmaking must necessarily follow, 
and there was still plenty of time for such pleas- 
ures. She feared that i^eople -would laugh at 
her; but no one took any notice of her. The 
whole village was in an uproar ; for it was 
rumored that Joseph Hagenbach of Sblden had 
slain the bear which had appeared in the neigh- 
borhood of Vintschgau, and for which the young 
men of the cantons were vainly searching. 
Joseph had also undertaken the task, had gone 
across the hills, and had killed him on Friday 
last: so the messenger from Schnalzer said. 
And he brought the news that Joseph would soon 
follow him. The Sbldener peasants who were 
standing outside the church-door were very 
proud that one of their number should have 
been successful in the adventure, and could talk 



OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


15 


of nothing but of Joseph, who was by far the 
strongest and the finest fellow in the mountains, 
besides being their crack shot. 

The young girls listened eagerly to the account 
of his various feats, and how no mountain was 
too steep, no distance too great, no cleft too 
wide, and no danger too great, for him ; and when 
a pale, delicate-looking woman came across the 
grass towards them, they all rushed up to her 
to congratulate her that her son should have 
obtained such honor. 

“ Any one might take your son Joseph as an 
example,” said the men. “What a pleasure 
this would have been to your husband, had he been 
alive ! ’ * said the women. 

j “ When any one looks at you,” said one, pleas- 
j antly, “ it is hard, almost impossible, to believe 
that you should have such a magnificent strap- 
ping fellow for your son.” 

Much flattered, the frau answered with a smile, 
“Yes, he is a handsome fellow, and a good 
son : there could be no better. But I can 
tell you that never a day goes by that I do not 
expect him to be brought home in a mangled 
condition. I am constantly alarmed at his spirit 
of adventure. Ah, it is a cross to bear ! ” 

At that moment, an end was put to the conver- 
sation by the appearance of the high clergy. 
The people crowded into the church with the con- 
firmation children in their white aprons and 
many-colored wreaths ; and the holy ceremony 
began. 

But Wally could think of nothing during the 


16 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


entire service, but of Joseph the bear-killer, and 
of all the wonderful things he was said to have 
achieved. How splendid to be so strong and 
beloved, and to be held in such respect by all, 
that none bore him any ill will ! If he would 
only return before she left Sblden ; for she was 
burning with the desire to see him at least once. 

The ceremony came at last to an end ; and, 
while the children were receiving the blessing, a 
wild, triumphant shout arose in the square before 
the church: “ He has killed the bear!’’ The 
priest had hardly ended the benediction, when the 
entire congregation rushed joyfully out of the 
church, and surrounded the young chamois-hunter, 
who, led by a band of stalwart fellows from the 
valley of Schnalzer and Vintschgau, was coming 
across the grass. His beauty was much greater 
than that of his companions. He towered above 
them in height, and was so handsome, that he 
strongly resembled the picture of St. George in 
the church. The bear-skin was slung across his 
shoulder; and the terrible claws of the animal 
hung over his broad chest. He walked as 
proudly as an emperor, and kept ahead of them 
all, with his long, slow strides. ‘ They could not 
have made more of him, had he been the emper- 
or himself, disguised as a chamois-hunter. One 
carried his gun; the other his tschopen; and 
all shouted, and waved branches about him, while 
he alone was quiet and cool. Modestly ap- 
proaching the priests, who were coming towards 
him, he uncovered his head. The strange bishop, 
making the sign of the cross over him, said, 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


17 


‘‘ Be strong in the Lord, my son ! with his help 
you have accomplished what was not permitted 
to others. Men must thank you ; but you must 
thank the Lord.” 

All the women were much touched, and wept ; 
and even Wally felt the tears well up into her 
eyes. It seemed as if the feeling of reverence 
which she had missed in the church, now came 
over her for the first time, as she saw him bow 
his head, and as the hand of the priest rested 
with a blessing on his brow. After this, the 
clergy retired; and Joseph’s first question then 
was, “ Where is my mother? Is she not here? ” 
— “Indeed I am ! ” she answered, and threw her 
arms round his neck. 

Joseph drew her to him, saying, “ You see, 
little mother, if I had never returned, I should 
have been sorry on your account. You dearest 
of mothers, you would not have known what to 
do without me ; and I should not have liked 
to die, leaving you alone.” 

Wally thought it a beautiful sight, and almost 
envied the mother, who rested so quietly in her 
son’s arms, and clung so tenderly to his strength. 
The eyes of all rested willingly on the group ; 
but Wally felt an indescribable sensation near 
her heart. 

The peasants then pressed up to him: “But 
tell us now how it all happened ! ” 

“ Yes, yes, I will tell you all about it,” said 
he, laughing ; and, that it might be seen by every 
one, he threw the bear-skin upon the ground. 
They formed a circle about him ; and the inn- 
2 


18 


GEIER-WALLT; 


keeper brought out on the square a barrel of his 
best, and uncorked it, for they always had a drink 
after church ; and, on such an occasion as this, 
the small sitting-room of the inn could not hold 
the unusual crowd of people. Men and women 
naturally drew near to Joseph; and those who 
had been confirmed climbed on to the benches, 
and up into the trees, so as to look over their 
heads. Walty was the first on a pine-tree, and 
could look him full in the face. Others being 
covetous of her position, and she refusing to 
3field her place, a quarrel and fight ensued. The 
St. George looked up at her then ; and his bright 
eyes met hers, and remained smilingly fixed on 
her for a moment. All Wally's blood rushed 
to her head; and it startled her so, that she 
^^eemed to hear every beat of her heart. She did 
not know why ; but she had never been so much 
frightened in her life. She heard only half of 
what Joseph was saying, owing to the constant 
singing in her ears ; and her one thought was, 

“ But suppose he should look up again ; " and she 
could not make up her mind whether she wanted 
him to or not. It did happen once again during 
his narrative, however ; and she looked quickly 
away, feeling as if she had been guiltj^ of some 
crime. Was it wi’ong for her to have looked at 
him ? It must be so ; and yet she was unable to 
resist the temptation, in spite of her fear that he 
would notice it. He did not perceive it, how- 
ever. What did he care for the child sitting in ! 
the tree? He had looked up once or twice, : 
as he would have looked at a squirrel, nothing \ 
more. 


OEy A TALE OF THE TYROL. 19 

Aa she reasoned thus with herself, a pang of 
sorrow shot through her heart. She had never 
before felt as she did at that moment. She was 
only glad that she had taken no wine on her 
journey, or she would have attributed all to that. 
In her excitement, she played unconsciousl}^ with 
her rosary. It was a new one, made of coral, 
with a chased silver cross. Her father had given 
it to her on her confirmation. Suddenly, while she 
was pulling and twisting it, the thread snapped ; 
and, like di*ops of blood, the beads fell one by 
one from the tree. “ That is a bad sign,” said 
an inward voice. “ Luckard does not like an}^ 
thing to break whilst one is thinking.’’ 

“ Whilst one is thinking ! ” Yes ; and what 
was the nature of her thoughts ? She reflected, 
but could not discover it. She had, after all, 
thought of nothing definite. But why was she 
so distressed at the string breaking at that 
instant? It seemed to her that thasun had sud- 
denly grown pale, and as if a blast of cold wind 
had passed over her. And yet not a leaf was 
stirring ; and the ice-bound world around her 
glittered in the bright sunlight. 

Dark clouds gathered around her. She could 
not tell whether they were in or out of herself. 
Meanwhile Joseph had brought the account of 
his adventure to a close, and had handed round 
the purse containing forty guldens, the prize 
given by the Tyrolian government for killing a 
bear ; and there was no end to the praises show- 
ered on him, and many hands were stretched out 
towards him. Wally’s father alone remained 


20 


GEIER-WALLY; 


sulkily in the background. It annoyed him that 
any one but himself and his daughter should have 
any influence, or perform any act of heroism. 
For the last thirty years he had been considered 
the strongest man in the mountains ; and he could 
not bear to acknowledge that he, no longer young, 
must make room for another generation. 

When, however, some one remarked to Joseph, 
that it was not astonishing that he should be 
such a strong fellow, as he had inherited it 
from his father, who had also been the best shot 
and the best fighter in those parts, the old man 
could contain himself no longer, and, with a thun- 
dering “ Oho,’’ rushed into their midst, saying, 
“ Don’t kill a fellow in such a hurry ! ” 

On hearing the menacing voice, all drew back, 
exclaiming, “ The Stromminger ! ” — “Yes, the 
Stromminger is still here ; and, what’s more, he 
never knew before, that old Hagenbach had been 
the best fighter — with his tongue perhaps, but 
not otherwise.” 

With flashing eyes, Joseph turned on him like 
a wounded wild-cat: “Who accused my father 
of being a bully? ” 

“ I did, the high-peasant of Sonneplatten ; and 
I know well what I said ; for I have knocked him 
over like a sack, at least ten times.” 

“ You lie ! ” cried Joseph. “ I will not permit 
any one to slander the memory of my father.” 

“Be quiet, Joseph! Don’t get into trouble 
with the high-peasant,” whispered they all. 

“What! high-peasant, or no high-peasant, 
though our Lord in heaven should come down, 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYBOL. 


21 


and speak against my father, I could not stand 
it. I know well that my father and the Strom- 
minger were constantly fighting ; for my father 
was the onl}" one who could equal him ; and he 
has thrown the Stromminger down time and 
again.” 

‘ ‘ It was never so ! ’ ’ yelled Stromminger. 
“ Your father was a blockhead compared to me. 
If any of 3'Ou old men here had a conscience, y’ou 
would uphold me in what I say. And if 5^ou don’t 
believe it then, why, I will rub it into you.” 

At the word “ blockhead,” Joseph sprang upon 
him furiously. ‘ ‘ Take back what you said, or ” — 

“O Holy Virgin!” shrieked the women. 
“Leave him alone, Joseph!” entreated his 
mother. ‘ ‘ He is an old man ; and 3’ou should 
not lay hands on him.” 

“ Oho ! ” cried Stromminger, scarlet with rage. 
“You would make me out an old good-for-nothing, 
would you ? I have not et reached such an age 
that I am unable to hold my own against such a 
whipper-snapper. Come on ! I will soon show 
3^ou that I still have marrow in my bones : I 
should not fear j^ou, even if 3"Ou had slain ten 
bears.” He threw himself on the young hunter 
like a mad bull : the latter fell back involuntarily, 
under his heavy weight. He merely staggered for 
a second, however ; for Joseph’s slim figure was so 
muscular, so elastic, and, when bent backwards, 
sprang back into place, like the tall pine-trees 
of those regions, which seem rooted and fastened 
into the rocks with bars of steel, and, though blown 
here and there by the four winds, resist the heavy 


22 


GEIER-WALLY; 


storms of the hills. Stromminger might as well 
have endeavored to tear up one of those trees 
as have tried to raise Joseph from the ground. 
After a slight struggle, Joseph closed his arms 
around him, and stifled him, drawing him closer 
and closer, until a loud moan of oppression 
was heard to issue from Stromminger’ s chest, 
and he no longer had the use of his arms. 
Now the young giant began to shake the old man, 
and to lift him from one side to the other, slowly, 
but often and thoroughly, shoving flrst one foot, 
and then the other, under his body, as though he 
would have thrown him backwards. The by- 
standers looked on breathlessly at this strange 
spectacle. It seemed almost wi’ong to them to be 
witnesses to the overthrow of such an old tree. 
Now — now he had lost his footing; he must 
fall. But no, Joseph held him up, dragged him 
in his powerful arms to the next bench, and put 
him down. Quietly drawing out his handker- 
chief, he wiped the perspiration from Strom- 
minger’s brow, and said, “You see, high- 
peasant, I have beaten you. I could have 
thrown you over ; but God preserve me from 
bringing shame on the head of an old man ! And 
now may we not be good friends again? You 
bear me no malice, Stromminger? ” 

He held his hand out good-naturedly; but 
Stromminger pushed it aside with a bitter look 
of hatred. “ The Devil shall avenge me, you ras- 
cal ! ” he cried ; “ and all of you Soldeners who 
have taken delight in seeing me made a laughing- 
stock of shall learn who the Stromminger is. 


OBy A TALE OF THE TYROL, 


23 


Although half of Solden should perish of hunger, 
I will have no more business with you, and will 
show no mercy.’’ 

Approaching the tree where Wally still sat, 
like one in a feverish dream, he tugged at her 
skirt. “Come down, I say: you cannot have 
your dinner here. No Soldener shall ever see a 
farthing of mine again.” But Wally staggered 
down from the tree, and stood as though nailed 
to the spot, raising her eyes almost pleadingly to 
Joseph. She thought he must realize how 
grieved she was at the prospect of not seeing 
him again : it seemed to her as if he must take 
her hands in his, and say, “Stay wdthme; for 
you are mine, and I am j’^ours. I belong to no 
one else.” He, however, was the centre of a 
group of men, who, in a half stupefied way, 
were consulting together about the whole matter ; 
for many in the village were Stromminger’s debt- 
ors : his riches flowed in the life-blood of the 
entire country. 

“ Are you coming, or not ? ” said Stromminger 
to the girl ; and she had no choice but to follow 
him : but her lips trembled, and her bosom heaved, 
as she cast a look of unconscious anger on her 
father. He drove her before him like a calf. 
They had gone a few steps, when the crowd fol- 
lowed them; and, on looking round, they saw 
Joseph close to them, with a few of the peasants. 
“ Do not be so ill-humored, high-peasant ! You 
cannot take that poor child all the way back to 
Sonneplatten, without her tasting food.” 

As he spake, Wally felt his breath on her 


24 


GEIER-WALLY; 


face : he looked at her, as he laid his hand pity- 
ingly on her shoulder. She did not know what 
had happened to her, he was so good and kind ; 
and the same feeling came over her that she had 
had when the wings of the vulture had beaten 
about her head : she neither heard nor saw any 
thing, his presence and his touch had such power 
over her young heart. 

She had been brave and cool, and had not 
ti’embled when the strong bird bore down upon 
her, and had hidden the light of the sun from 
her view ; and j^et now her whole body quivered, 
and she stood there unnerved and embarrassed. 

“ Get away I said the high-peasant, shaking 
his fist at Joseph. “Though it should cost me 
my life, I will strike you in the face, if you do 
not leave me alone.’’ 

“ If you do not want it, why, then, leave it ; but 
you are a fool, high-peasant,” said Joseph care- 
lessl}^, and, turning back, went off with the others. 

No one else interrupted their progress ; and 
every step took them farther away from Joseph. 

Wally looking round, for a while, saw his head 
towering over the rest, and heard the voices 
mingled with laughter, on the square before the 
church. She could not realize that she was real- 
ly leaving, and would perhaps never again lay 
e3^es on Joseph. On rounding a sharp corner in 
the rock, all, all disappeared, — the square crowded 
with human beings, and Joseph. Suddenly the 
dawning of a great happiness had come upon her, 
which had only beckoned her on, and was now 
lost forever. In her great anguish, and new, un- 


OE, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


25 


known grief, she glanced about her, as though in 
search of help. But no one was near to say, 
“Be comforted : all will be brighter some day.’’ 

Near her were the gloomy and bleak clefts and 
rocks : gloomy and bleak were those which she 
saw in the distance. What difference did the 
rising and sinking of worlds make to this poor 
little beating heart ? Her father walked silently 
by her side, like a movable block of stone ; and 
it was he who was to blame for all. She had no 
one to care for her in the whole world, but that 
hard, wicked, pitiless man. 

While she was thus thinking and reasoning 
with herself, she walked more and more in ad- 
vance of her father, up and down hill, as though 
she were trying to escape from her sorrow. The 
sun was burning on the bare ledge of the rock. 
All her pulses were beating : her tongue cleaved 
to the roof of her mouth, and she gasped for 
breath. Suddenly losing her self-control, she 
threw herself on the ground, and burst into tears. 

‘ ‘ Oho ! what is the meaning of this ? ’ ’ said 
Stromminger, much astonished, as he had not 
seen his daughter weep since her childhood. 
“ Are you silly?” 

Wally did not answer, but gave herself up to 
this wild outburst of distress. 

“Speak, now!” ordered Stromminger. 
“ What does this mean? Hush at once, -or ” — 
Like the mountain stream emptying itself out of 
the rock, the whole truth burst forth from her 
beating, troubled heart, as she covered the old 
man with the froth of her anger. She kept 


26 


GEIEE-WALLY; 


nothing back ; for she had always been truthful, 
and had never deceived. She said that she had 
been impressed by Joseph, and loved him, ay, 
loved him far better than ^ny one in the world. 
She had been so happy at the thought of speak- 
ing to him ! And if Joseph had learned that she 
was such a fearless, intrepid girl, and had 
already performed so many feats of strength, he 
would certainly have danced with her, and have 
fallen in love with her ; and now her father had 
deprived her, in his folly, of every thing. He 
had attacked Joseph ; and she had been com- 
pelled to run away from her confirmation, covered 
with such shame and disgrace, that he would prob- 
ably never again look at her. Her father was 
always bad and unkind to every one ; for that 
reason, he went everywhere by the name of 
“The hideous Stromminger,” and she had to 
bear the consequences. 

Suddenly Stromminger yelled out, “Enough 
of this!” A whistling sound rushed through 
the air; and her father’s stick descended on her 
shoulders with such force, that, for the moment, 
she thought her spine must be broken, and, be- 
coming quite pale, she bowed her head. It was 
like hail on her scarcely developed soul. She 
felt so ill for an instant, that she was unable to 
stir. The tears fell from her half-closed lids in 
heavy drops, like the sap from a broken twig : 
all else was silent and dead within her. Strom- 
minger stood by her, and waited like a drover by 
the steer which has fallen under his blows, and 
cannot pick itself up, swearing in a low tone of 
voice. 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


27 


All about them was solitude and repose. Not 
even the voice of a bird, or the rustling of the 
wind through the trees, interrupted the silence. 
No tree could grow, or bird build its nest, along 
the narrow mountain-path taken by the father 
and daughter. Centuries before, there, on that 
very spot, there might have been a furious strug- 
gle of the elements. ^As far as the eye could 
reach, nothing remained now of the wild convul- 
sion, but gigantic ruins. Extinct were the fires 
that had shaken the soil ; and the waters had 
ebbed, carrying with them the fragments of 
earth. The forces that had once shaken those 
motionless colossi, piled one on top of the other, 
were now at rest. The silence of the tomb 
reigned among them as in a graveyard ; and 
the white glaciers rose far above them, like 
thoughts taking flight heavenward. 

Even here, man alone — ever restless man — 
introduced his endless strife, and with its strug- 
gles outraged the calm of Nature. 

Wally finally recovered her strength suflaciently 
to go farther. No other complaint crossed her 
lips. She had conquered her tears ; but her 
father was to her as a stranger. 

“Now you know the, result of allowing your 
mind to run upon that scamp who has made me 
a scorn to children,” said he, holding her by her 
arm ; “ and you may as well understand that I 
would rather throw you over the Sonneplatten, 
than ever allow you to have Joseph!” — “I 
understand,” said Wally, with an expression 
that even startled Stromminger; for in those 


28 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


words, and in her tone, there lay the most um 
bending disdain. Looking at her father, she 
cast upon him a glance of unforgiving hatred. 

‘‘Yon are a bad, bad thing,’’ muttered ho 
between his teeth. 

“ I did not steal it,” answered she likewise. 

“ Wait a while : I will drive it out of you ! ” 

“All right,” said she with a nod, as much as 
to say, “ Only try it.” 

After which, they did ^ not exchange another 
word duiing their whole journey. 

When Wally retired to her room on reaching 
home, to put aside her holiday dress, old Luck- 
ard, who had lived with her mother and grand- 
mother, and had been like a mother to Wally, 
put her head in the doorway, and whispered, — 

“ Have you been crying, Wally? ” 

“ Why? ” asked the girl in an unusually harsh 
voice. 

“There are tears in my cards. 1 have been 
laying cards for you on your confirmation. You 
fell not only between two men, but between them 
and your own fear : all was so near, that it must 
have happened to-day, and within a short space.” 

“Really!” answered the girl indifferently, 
putting her mother’s beautiful skirt away in the 
large wooden coffer. 

“ Child, what is the matter? ” asked Luckard. 
“You look ill, and you are home so early I Did 
you not dance? ” 

“Dance?” The girl burst into a hard shrill 
laugh, as though some one had struck a lute with 
a hammer, until the strings rattled piteously. 
“ I felt like dancing I ” 


OE, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 29 

“ Child, something has happened to you. Toll 
me ; perhaps I can help you.” 

“ No one can help me,” said Wally, closing 
the coffer, as though she would have buried all 
that lay folded beneath its cover. 

It seemed to her that she had buried in it all 
her young hopes. “Go away now!” said she 
imperiously. She had never spoken so before. 
“ I want to rest.” 

“ Holy Virgin I ” shrieked Luckard. “ There 
is your rosary on the grbund ! Broken ! Where 
are the beads? ” 

“Lost! ” 

“ Lord, Lord, what miseiy ! You have only the 
little cross and the thread. To break a rosary 
when you were confirmed, and the tears in the 
cards into the bargain ! O God in heaven ! what 
will happen now? ” 

Thus moaning to herself, the old woman, half 
pushed out by Wally, left her ; and the girl drew 
the bolt behind her. Throwing herself on her 
bed, she stared at the image of the mother of 
Jesus, and the crucifix, hanging on the opposite 
wall, without moving. 

Should she pour out her grief here ? No. The 
Virgin could not wish her well, or she would 
never have allowed her confirmation-day to be so 
spoiled. Nor did the Holy Mother know what 
it was to have such a sorrow ; for she had only 
loiown grief on her Son’s account, and this was 
quite a different kind of heartache. And the 
Lord Jesus Christ — he was the last one to ap- 
peal to in such troubles. He could not occupy 


30 


GEIEB -WALLY; 


himself with them. He only desires us to strive 
to reach the kingdom of heaven. Oh ! her 
whole young impulsive heart yearned and 
longed, with every beat, for that dearly beloved 
man here on earth. Heaven was so distant and 
so strange, that she could not wish for it at a 
moment when her nature imperatively claimed 
its right for the first time. She raised her e3'es 
defiantly to the figures of the Virgin and her Son, 
who could not sympathize with her sorrow, and 
yet demanded of her what she could not do. 
She lay there for some time, with her eyes fixed 
on the holy images ; but she soon saw nothing 
before her but Joseph’s handsome face; and 
unconsciously she placed her hand on her shoul- 
der, where his had rested, as though she would 
have retained his touch. His mother, of whom 
she was so envious, was there again, and rested 
in his arms, while Joseph gently caressed her. 
Wally pushed his mother aside, and put herself 
in her place, close to Joseph’s heart; and he 
clasped her in his arms. Looking into his 
bright black eyes, she tried to imagine what he 
would say to her ; but she could think of nothing, 
except, “ You darling girl 1 ” as he said to his 
mother, “ You dearest mother ! ” It was all so 
enchanting! Oh, what could heaven be, com- 
pared to the bliss which she experienced at the 
mere thought of Joseph! What would the 
reality be ? 

She sprang up, on hearing a knock at the win- 
dow, as out of a dream. It was the hawk she had 
saved two years ago, which was as true to her as 


OE, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


31 


a dog. She could allow it to be perfectly free : 
it never did any harm, and flew after her as well 
as it could, with its bruised wings. She opened 
the little window ; it hopped in, and looked trust- 
ingly at her with its yellow eyes. Smoothing 
its neck, she played with its strong pinions, 
opening and closing them. A cool breeze came 
through the open casement. The sun was 
already disappearing behind the hills ; and the 
narrow window-frame enclosed, as in a picture, 
the peaceful mountain-peaks, wrapped in the 
blue haze. 

She, also, became more calm. The evening air 
gave her fresh courage. Taking the bird on her 
shoulder, she said, “Come along. Hansel: we 
behave as if there were no work to be done in 
the world.” The faithful bird had been a great 
comfort to her. She had taken it from the 
sharp rock, where every other human being 
refused to venture : she had struggled for life or 
death with its mother, had tamed it ; and it now 
belonged exclusively to her. “ And he shall 
some day be mine also,” said an inward voice, 
as she pressed the bird closer to her. 


32 


GEIER-WAILY; 


CHAPTER n. 


UNYIELDING. 



UCH had been the brief story of her love 
and suffering, which re-awoke with re- 
newed vigor in her young heart, as she 
looked down where she so often thought 
to see Joseph, who frequently passed by, and 
never came up to her. 

She wiped her brow, for the sun had already 
begun to burn, and she had mowed the entire dis- 
tance from the house to Sonneplatten, as the pro- 
jection was called on which she was standing, 
because it was the highest point, and always 
received the first rays of the sun. The village 
was named after it. 

“ Wally, Wally ! ” called some one behind her. 
“ You are to go to your father : he has something 
to say to 3^ou.” The old Luckard came towards 
her from the house. Her father had called her? 
What could he want? Since the adventure in 
Sdlden, he had not addressed a remark to her, 
unless it had been in reference to the daily work. 
She arose, and followed Luckard, hesitating be- 
tween fear and aversion. ‘ ‘ What does he want ?’ ’ 
she asked. 

“Great news!” said Luckard. “Look up. 
yonder.” Wally now perceived her father stand- 
ing before the house, and by his side a young 



OB, A TALE OF THE TTBOL. 3B 

peasant of the place, Gellner Vincenz, with a 
large bunch of flowers in his buttonhole. He 
was a strong, gloomy fellow, whom Wally had 
considered obstinate and reserved since her 
childhood. She was the only person to whom he 
did not begrudge a pleasant word ; and he had 
shown his liking for her ever since she had flrst 
gone to school. A few months ago his two par- 
ents had died, one after the other ; and now he 
was alone in the world, and, after Stromminger, 
the most wealthy peasant of the neighborhood. 

Wally’s blood ceased to flow thi’ough her veins ; 
for she knew now what was coming. 

“Vincenz wishes to marry you,” said her 
father. “I have given my consent. The wed- 
ding will take place next month.” Saying this, 
he turned away, and went into the house, as if 
there was nothing further to be said on the sub- 
ject. 

Wally, thunderstruck, remained silent for a 
moment. She had to collect her thoughts, and 
recover herself. 

Meanwhile, Vincenz approached her confi- 
dently, and attempted to throw his arm around 
her. With a cry of horror she sprang back ; for 
she knew now what she had to do. “ Vincenz,” 
said she, trembling in agony, “ I beg of you to 
go home. I can never, never, be your wife. You 
would not wish my father to compel me ; and, for 
the last time, I say to you, I do not like you.” 

Vincenz’ s face was convulsed as with a flash 
of lightning. He bit his lip, and fastened his 
black eyes on Wally with devouring passion. 

3 


34 


GEIEB -WALLY; 


“ You don’t like me, eh ? But I like you ; and, by 
my life, I will win you ! I will never give your 
father back his word ; and he has given me his 
consent : and you will think twice of it, I expect, 
if your father desires it.” 

“ Vincenz,” said Wally, “ had you been clever, 
3^ou w'ould not have spoken as you just now did ; 
for you would have understood that now I will 
take 3"ou less than ever ; for I will never Lq forced 
into any thing, and that you well know. And 
now, Vincenz, go home. We can have nothing 
more to say to one another.” 

And, turning shortly round, she went into the 
house. 

“O you — !” called Vincenz, infuriated, and 
shaking his fist at her. He recollected himself, 
however, and, muttering to himself, he said, 
“ Well, I can wait, and I will wait ! ” 

Wally went straight to her father. He was 
pondering over his account-books, and turned 
slowly round as she entered the room. “What 
is it?” 

The sun cast its bright rays through the low 
window, around Wally, and she stood before her 
father as though encircled with a halo. Even he 
could not help admiring his child, she was so 
lovely at that moment. 

“Father,” said she quietly, “I only wanted 
to tell you that I cannot marry Vincenz.” 

“ So, that is it, is it?” cried Stromminger, ris- 
ing from his seat. “ You won’t marry him? ” 

“ No, father : I do not like him.” 

“Well. And did I ask you whether you liked 
him or not?” 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL, 35 

“No. I tell you so without your asking me.’’ 

“ And I tell you, unasked, that, whether it 
pleases you or not, you shall many Vincenz four 
weeks hence. Stromminger never breaks his 
word ; and he has mine. Now clear out.” 

“ No, father,” said Wally. “ This cannot end 
here. I am not one of your oxen, to be sold or 
given away, as the master pleases. When it is 
my marriage we are discussing, it strikes me that 
I have some voice in the matter.” 

“No, you have none; for a child belongs to 
its parent, as well as a calf or a cow, and must 
do what the father wills.” 

“ Who says that, father?” 

“Who says so? Why, it is in the Bible!” 
And the blood ascended threateningly into his 
face. 

‘ ‘ In the Bible we learn only that we are to 
love and honor our parents, and not that we are 
to marry a man whom we cannot endure. Listen, 
father. If my marrying Vincenz could do you 
any good, or save you from death or poverty, I 
should have to do it, although it would break my 
heart. But you are a rich man, depending on 
no one. My marriage cannot make the slightest 
difference to you, and you give me to Vincenz 
out of sheer wickedness ; so that I shall be un- 
able to take Joseph, whom I love, and who would 
love me in return, if he only knew me. That is 
wrong of you, and 3"ou will not find in the Bible 
that a child should yield in such a case.” 

“ You are an impertinent girl, and I will send 
you to the chaplain, who will teach you what is 
in the Bible.” 


36 


GEIER -WALLY; 


“ That will make no difference, father. You 
may send me to ten priests, and they may all tell 
me that I ought to obey you in this matter : I 
would, nevertheless, not do it.” 

“As surely as I am the Stromminger, I tell 
you that you will do it. Either you do it, or I 
disinherit you, and drive you from house and 
home.” 

“ You may do that, father. I am strong enough 
to earn my daily bread. Yes, father, give all to 
Vincenz, excepting myself.” 

“Silly chatterbox!” said Stromminger per- 
plexed. “ Shall the world say that Strommin- 
ger cannot master even his own child? You 
shall take Vincenz, even if I have to beat you in 
the church.” 

“ Should you beat me in the church, even at the 
altar, I will say, Ab. You may kill me ; but you 
will never be able to gain my consent. And, should 
you succeed in so doing, I would rather throw 
myself off the rock than wed one whom I do not 
love.” 

“Listen now 1” cried Stromminger; and his 
broad forehead seemed split in half by the angry 
blue vein across it. His whole countenance became 
convulsed, and his eyes bloodshot. “ Listen now : 
do not enrage me 1 You had enough of me on the 
wood-path ; now be quiet, or all will end badly 
between us.” 

“All ended badly between us a year ago, 
father ; for, when you beat me on my confirmation- 
da}^, I felt then a gulf between us. Since then, 
father, I have not cared if you were kind to me. 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


37 


or not ; if 37^ou treated me well, or the reverse. It 
has been all the same to me. I have no love 
left for j-ou. I care no more about 3"6u than I 
do about the Similaun, or Vernagt, or Murzoll 
glaciers.’’ 

Having listened, half dazed, to the girl, a sup- 
pressed cry of rage burst forth from Stromminger’s 
chest. 

Unable to speak, he rushed at her, and, seizing 
her round the waist, lifted her from the ground, 
over his head, and shook her in the air, until he 
himself lost his breath. He then threw her on 
the floor, and placing his heel, covered with nails, 
on her breast, said, “ I will crush you like a worm, 
if 3’ou do not ask forgiveness for what you have 
said.” 

“Do it,” said the girl, staring fixedly at her 
father. She could hardly breathe, for her father’s 
foot rested on her like lead ; but she did not stir, 
or even move her eyelids. 

Stromminger’s power was now broken. He 
had threatened what he could not do ; for his 
anger diminished, and he became suddenly cool, 
at the thought of crushing the beautiful, innocent 
breast of his child. Almost staggering, he drew 
back his foot. “ No, the high-peasant will not 
end his days in a penitentiary,” said he with a 
hollow voice, and sank exhausted on a bench. 

Wally arose. She was as pale as death : her 
e^^e was tearless and dull as a stone. She waited, 
motionless, for what should follow. 

Stromminger remained wrapped in deep thought 
for a moment, then said he hoarsely, “ I cannot 


38 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


conquer you ; but, since you love the Similaun and 
Murzoll as well as your father, for the future 
you shall remain with them : j^ou belong there ! 
You shall never again sit at my table. You shall 
mind the cattle on the Hochjoch, and remain 
there, until you have learned that it is better and 
more comfortable in Vincenz’s nest than in the 
troughs of snow on Murzoll. Pack up your 
bundle : I never want to see you again. You 
are to go up to-morrow morning. I will let the 
shepherd from Schnalzer know, and send the boy 
with the cattle to you next week. Take enough 
bread and cheese with you to last until the arrival 
of the cattle. Klettenmaier will take you up. 
And now go. This is my final decision, and I 
will not alter it. ’’ 

“ Very well, father,^’ said Wally softly, and, 
bowing her head, she left her father’s room. 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


39 


• CHAPTER III. 

DISOWNED. 

the Hochjoch! That was a fearful 
|f®M| decision; for on the unfruitful plains 
of the Hochjoch, winter and the stillness 
of death reigned supreme. One does 
not hear there, wafted by the soft aromatic breeze, 
the tinlding of bells, or the sound of the jodels of 
the Sennen and Sennerinnen. Softly and sadl}^, 
as a mother kisses the pale brow of her dead 
child, does the sun Idss these cold ice-mountains. 
A few grasses, the last traces of a once organic 
life, are still to be seen in this wintry desert, and 
grow there, until, the last drop of living sap 
being chilled, the blade of grass withers away, — 
Natm-e’s slow death! 

He sends his flocks up there to And all they 
can ; and the sheep, gazing longingty at a plant, 
which, though belonging to a milder climate, has 
wandered there by mistake, falls, not unfrequent- 
ly, into a crevice in the ice. 

And the child of the proud high-peasant, 
whose possessions stretch themselves for leagues in 
the plains, and reach unto the clouds, was to 
spend the best part of her youth here, in the 
midst of continuous winter! While below, on 
earth, the breezes of May are blowing, the blos- 
soms unfolding themselves, the birds building 


40 


GEIEB -WALLY; 


their nests, and all things working together in 
happy unison, she had to take her crook in her 
hand, and, leaving the meadows behind her, climb 
into the solitude of the glaciers, not to return 
into the valley until the cold blasts are sounding 
the approach of autumn. Her life and body 
seemed no longer to belong to her. 

None of the peasants in that region ever sent 
their shepherds up there ; but they leased pastures 
on the side of the Schnalzer nearest them, oppo- 
site the Yoch, and sent over two half-savage, 
weather-beaten comrades, who, clad in skins, 
lived like hermits in stone huts, at short distances 
apart. Now the high-peasant, who had hitherto 
also rented his pasturage, condemned his own 
child to the existence of the shepherds of Schnal- 
zer. No complaint crossed her lips, however. 
She prepared herself quietly for her dreary Alpine 
journe5^ Towards dawn, long before sunrise, 
whilst her father, the men and maid servants 
were still sleeping, Wally left her father’s house, 
and went out on the mountain. 

Old Luckard, “who had, of course, foreseen 
all through her cards,” and had spent the night 
with Wally, assisting her to tie up her bundle, 
stuck a bunch of rue in her hat for “farewell,” 
and went a bit of the way with her. The old 
woman wept as though she had been going to a 
funeral. Klettenmaier followed them with the 
bundle. He was a faithful old servant, who had 
grown old in Stromminger’s service, because, on 
account of his deafness, he could not hear him 
storm and rage. The Stromminger had sent him 


OR, TALE OF THE TYROL. 


41 


with his daughter as her guide. Luckard accom- 
panied them until the road became too steep ; 
then bade them farewell, and turned back, as she 
had to be at home in time for breakfast. Wally 
climbed higher, and looked down on the road. 
Her heart almost softened, as she saw the. aged 
woman going from her, crying bitterly in her 
apron. Luckard had always been good to her, 
and, although she was old and feeble, had, at all 
events, always loved Wally. Once more she 
looked round, and pointed upwards with her fin- 
ger. Wally followed the dii’ection of her hand ; 
and, behold ! something sailed heavily and uncer- 
tainly through the air by the mountain-side, like 
a kite in want of v,dnd, first flying a short dis- 
tance, then sinking, and with difficulty recover- 
ing itself. The hawk had fluttered wearily 
after her with its bruised wings. It appeared, 
however, to have now lost its strength, and to 
struggle on by clapping its wings to and fro. 

“Hansel! O my Hansel! how could I have 
forgotten 3"OU? cried Wally, and sprang like a 
goat, from stone to stone, the shortest way back, 
to fetch the faithful bird. Luckard waited until 
Wally, on reaching the pathway on the edge of 
the rock, greeted her once more, as after a long 
absence. 

Hansel was finally reached ; and Wally, taking 
it in her aims, pressed it, like a child, to her 
heart. Since the evening before, the bird had 
become so interwoven with Joseph in her mind, 
that it seemed almost like a silent mediator be- 
tweea him and her, or as though Joseph had 


42 


GEIEB-WALLY; ■ 


been transformed into the hawk, and that there- 
fore, when she held the bird in her arms, she 
held him. 

As a cross of wood and a painted holy image 
are transformed by intense faith into visible 
symbols, through which the unattainable may be 
attained, and by which the unintelligible may 
be understood, so does earnest love also create 
for itself symbols, to which it clings when the 
loved one is beyond its reach. Thus Wally 
derived inestimable comfort from her bird. 
“ Come, Hansel,” said she. tenderly : “ you shall 
go with me into the distant mountain. We 
shall never be parted from each other.” 

“ But, child,” said Luckard, “ you cannot take 
the hawk up with you. It will die of hunger ; 
for you know you have no meat, and it will not 
eat any thing else.” 

‘ ‘ That is true , ’ ’ said W ally sadly. “ But I can- 
not separate myself from the bird : I must have 
something with me in that desert up above. 
Besides which, I cannot leave it at home : when 
I am gone, there will be no one to take care of 
it.” 

‘ ‘ Oh ! you need not worry yourself about 
that,” said Luckard. “ I will watch over it.” 

“Yes ; but it will not follow you,” suggested 
Wall}’. “ You could never manage it.” 

“ Oh, what nonsense ! ” said Luckard inoffen- 
sively. “ I took care of 3"Ou: I can also man- 
age the hawk. Give it to me. I will take it 
home.” And she quietly took the bird from 
Wally’s arms. She had made a mistake, how- 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


43 


ever ; for the handsome hawk arose against her, 
and pecked at her so angrily, that Luckard let it 
fly. She now gave up all idea of carrying it. 

“ See there ! ” said Wally joyfully. “ No mat- 
ter what happens, I must keep it ; for it refuses 
to leave me. — Oh, my Hansel ! there can be no 
pain as long as we are together. — I will tell you 
what, Luckard, I will allow its wings to grow 
out now. It will not fly away, and can then 
fetch its own food.’’ 

“For Heaven’s sake then take it with you. 
I will send you some fresh and salt meat up by 
the boy; and you can feed it on that until it 
gets its flight.” 

Thus it was settled. Wally put the bird under 
her arm, like a hen, and again parted from Luck- 
ard, who began to cry afresh. But, without stop- 
ping, she now ascended the mountain, following 
Klettenmaier, who, meanwhile, had walked on. 

Two hours later she reached Vent, the last 
village before entering the ice- world. She climbed 
the height above Vent ; and there the road to the 
Hochjoch began. Once more she stopped ; and, 
leaning on her alpenstock, she looked down on the 
calm village, still half wrapped in dreams, and 
across to the Wildsee, and the last houses of the 
Oetz Valley. The Rofener Hofen, lying almost 
at the foot of the ever changing Hochvernagt, 
seemed to say defiantly, as she had said to her 
father, the day before, “ Crush us ! ” And, like 
her father, the Hochvernagt drew back his mighty 
foot, as though unable to destroy this fortress 
of his brave childi’en of the Alps, — the “ Block 
of Rofen.” 


44 


GEIEB -WALLY; 


As she stood there, gazing on the last dwell- 
ings of man, before climbing into the wilderness 
above the clouds, the call to matins was rung in 
the church-tower of Vent. The chaplain, with 
folded hands, came out from his little parsonage, 
where the mountain carnations nodded their 
heads from the window-sills, and went into the 
church to perform his duty. Here and there the 
little wooden huts seemed to open their eyes, 
half drunk with sleep ; and, one after another, 
figures came out from them, stretched themselves, 
and walked towards the church. 

Carefully, without losing a note, did winged 
angels carry the devout sound through the air, 
into the mountain, where it sounded to Wally 
like the voice of a child in prayer. 

It seemed, also, to have awaked the sun. Like 
a mother aroused by the sweet lispings of her 
child, he opened his eyes ; and the rays of his 
first glance shot up on the hills, crowning the 
brows in the east with an immeasurable shaft of 
fire. The dense gray^ mist in the heavens melted 
into a clear azure : the rays shot mightily across 
the sky ; and at last the sun rose in its full glory 
over the mountain-peaks wrapped in clouds, and 
turned its flaming countenance towards the earth". 
The mountains stripped themselves of their veil 
of mist, and bathed themselves in the flood of 
light. All seemed to heave and bubble in the 
abysses far beneath, as though the clouds of 
heaven had cast themselves* down there. In the 
air above, all revelled as in a hymn of praise ; 
and, like a bride on her wedding-morning, the 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL, 


45 


earth shed tears of a blessed awakening. The 
dew glittered merrily on the grass and bushes, like 
the teardrops on the eyelashes of a bride. 

Happiness reigned in all the plains ; on the 
mountains, where the bright sunbeams reflected 
themselves in the deep eyes of the chamois ; and 
in the valley, where the lark rose, gayly twitter- 
ing, from the cornfield. 

Wally gazed entranced into the awakening 
world ; while her e3"e could hardly compass the 
broad, clear landscape, in its peaceful morning 
beauty. The hawk flapped its wing longingly 
towards the sun, with a greeting. 

Meanwhile, all became animated in Vent. In 
the clear morning light, Wall}^ could distinguish 
eveiy thing. The boys kissed the maidens by 
the well. Smoke curled out of the houses, and 
disappeared in the fresh spring atmosphere, as 
an unpleasant thought vanishes in the soul of the 
happy. 

In the square before the church, men w'ere 
assembling in their clean Sunday shirts, with 
their silver-mounted pipes in their mouths. It 
was Whitmonday, which every one celebrated and 
enjoyed. Oh the blessed feast of Pentecost ! It 
must have been on such a day that the Holy 
Spirit descended upon the disciples, and, with 
ra^^s of light from heaven, commanded them to 
go forth into the whole world, and preach the 
gospel of love, — preach it, then, to warm young 
hearts ; and in the spring of the earth, the spring- 
tide of man also broke forth, — the religion of 
love. For the girl on the hill, however, there 


46 


GEIER-WALLY; 


was no Whitsuntide, and no revelation of love. 
No voice had made the gospel a living thing to 
her. It had remained to her an empty letter, a 
dried-up grain of wheat, which had lacked the 
warm beam by the aid of which it w'ould have 
grown up in her soul. No dove of peace came 
down to her from the deep azure sky ; the bird of 
prey on her shoulder was her only messenger of 
love. Wally finally roused herself from her 
trance. She cast one last look into the merry, 
noisy village, then turned, and ascended into the 
quiet ice-plains of the Hochjoch, — into exile. 


OE. A TALE OF THE TYEOL. 


47 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE CHILD OF MURZOLL. 



I OR five hours Wally had climbed across 
entire fields of aromatic Alpine weeds, 
and deep plaihs of snow, and wide mo- 
raines. Her sleepless night told on her 
weary limbs ; and she almost despaired of reach- 
ing her journey’s end. She trembled from head to 
foot ; for a five-hours’ struggle, as if for life, with 
such a rough mountain, is hard work. Heavy 
drops covered her forehead, when suddenly, as 
if by magic, she stood facing a bank of clouds. 
She had turned the sharp corner of a rock, in 
front of the sun, and was now surrounded by a 
dense mist, while a chill blast dried the perspira- 
tion on her brow. The ground was as smooth as 
glass : she slipped at every step. She was stand- 
ing on ice, and had reached the Murzoll glacier, 
the highest peak of the Hochjoch ridge. 

Nothing but scant mountain-grass grew here 
between the masses of stone and snow. Round 
about were bluish ice-clefts, unsullied or untrodden 
as yet by man or beast, — profound winter. Shiv- 
ering, Wally drew herself together. This was 
the entrance to the ice-fortress of Murzoll, which 
was said by many in the Oetz Valley to be the 
abode of the blessed fairies. Luckard used to 
entertain little Wally with stories of them, when 



48 


GEIER-WALLY; 


the snow-storms were howling about the house. 
The air which she breathed from these walls — 
caverns and dungeons of ice — seemed almost 
ghostly to her. She shuddered as in her child- 
hood, when Luckard alarmed her, as though the 
gloomy spirit of the glaciers really lived there. 

She proceeded silently on her wa}^ Her deaf 
guide at length stopped before a low hut, built 
of stone, with a wide overhanging roof, a strong 
wooden door, and small apertures in the stone, 
instead of a window. Inside, to serve as the 
hearth, were two blackened pieces of rock, and 
a bed of old rotten straw. This was the cabin 
of the Schnalzer shepherd, who had formerly 
watched the flocks here, and was henceforth to 
be inhabited by Wally. Wally’s expression did 
not change as she looked on her comfortless 
abode : it was, after all, like many other wretched 
Alpine huts ; and she was accustomed to rough it. 
Her haughty nature could not be shaken by such 
trifles. She had undergone more on the day 
previous than even her exceptional strength 
could stand ; and she was completely worn out. 
She assisted the deaf man mechanically to un- 
pack the many useful and good things put up for 
her by Luckard, to prepare a cleaner bed, and 
to make the dreaiy hut more habitable. Me- 
chanically, too, she shared with him the food 
given her by Luckard. The man saw how pale 
she was, and said pityingly to her, “Now that 
3^ou have eaten, lie down, and sleep a bit ; for you 
need it. Meanwhile, I will bring you up, from 
below, some wood for the next few days ; but, 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


49 


after that, I must leave you : otherwise I shall 
never get home by daylight ; and your father 
especial^ ordered me to return to-day.” He 
threw a good straw bed, which he had brought 
with him, on the ground ; and she, holding out 
her hand to him, threw herself on it with half- 
closed eyes. “ I will not wake you,” said he: 
“ in case you should still be asleep when I leave, 
I will say good-by. Have no fear, and be strong. 
I am very sorry for you alone up here ; but — why 
did you not obey your father?” 

Wally heard his last words as in a dream. 
When the deaf man left the hut, shaking his 
head pityingly, Wally was already in a deep 
sleep. Even in her sleep, did her bosom heave 
heavily as though in terror ; for her sorrow 
weighed on her like a mountain. She dreamed 
of her father : in church, he was tying up her hair. 
Her constant thought was, if only she had a 
knife, she could have cut her hair off, and been 
free. 

Suddenly Joseph stood by her side, and with 
one blow severed her plaits from her head, so 
that they remained in her father’s hand ; and 
Wally escaped. While Joseph struggled with 
her father, Wally climbed to the height of Sonne- 
platten, to cast herself down into the Ache. 
But the great depth inspired her with awe ; and 
she hesitated. Despair seized her on hearing 
her father once more close behind her ; and she 
threw herself over. She fell, and sank lower 
and lower, without reaching the bottom. Sud- 
denly a current of air seemed to rise against her 
4 


50 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


from below, which, instead of allowing her to 
sinlr, seemed to raise her upwards. Thus fight- 
ing for her equilibrium, which she feared to lose, 
she soared up to the Murzoll peak. She could 
not however obtain her footing, but was like a ship 
unable to reach her moorings. A frightful whirl- 
wind overcame her ; and she endeavored in vain 
to cling to the bare rock. Heavy thunder-clouds 
gathered about her; and the summit of the 
mountain, covered with snow, looked ghostly, seen 
through them. Fiery serpents shot through the 
black masses which were about her ; and the hills 
quaked at the thunder-claps. She was whirled 
hither and thither by these conflicting powers ; 
and her one fear was, that she should be over- 
turned by the storm, for she felt, that, once her 
head down, she must be hurled into the deep. 
Like a boat tossed on the waves, she yielded 
first on one side, and then on the other, and tried 
to keep her head up. But her feet gave way 
under her ; and she felt the weight of her head 
dragging her down. She attempted to cry out 
for help in the midst of the storm and thunder 
and darkness ; but she could bring out no sound : 
her throat seemed to be closed with terror. All 
at once she was seized. She felt the ground 
under her. She thought she was in a ravine of 
the mountain ; but, instead of a ravine, two gigan- 
tic arms of rock surrounded her, and, behold ! a 
powerful countenance of stone looked down upon 
her out of the clouds, as they were clearing off. 
It was the aged face of Murzoll. His hair was 
the snow-covered pine-trees ; his eyes were ice ; 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


51 


his beard moss ; and his eyebrows were of edel- 
weiss. The crescent of the moon rested on his 
brow like a diadem, and diffused her mild light 
over his pale countenance ; while his large eyes 
of ice glistened ghostlike in the bluish light. 
He looked on the maiden with these cold, pier- 
cing, and unfathomable eyes ; and the cold sweat 
froze on her forehead under his gaze ; and tears 
rolled off her cheeks, softly rattling like drops 
of crystal as they fell. He pressed his lips of 
stone to hers ; and, from his long embrace, his 
mouth became warm, and thawed, so that the 
roses of the Alps grew around it ; and, looking 
again at Wall}^, streams ran from his eyes of ice 
into his beard of moss. The dark clouds had 
vanished ; and a breeze of spring was wafted 
through the night. 

Murzoll now moved his melting lips ; and it 
sounded like avalanches precipitating themselves 
into the valley. “ Your father has cast you off ; 
and, as a cold stone has more feeling than a 
hardened human heart, I will adopt you as my 
child. There is in you the material of which 
rocks are made. I like you : you satisfy me. 
Will you become my child ? ” 

“I will,’' said Wally, nestling into the heart 
of her new parent. 

“ Then stay with me, and do not return to 
men ; for they are always fighting. I alone am 
always at peace.” 

“But Joseph, whom I love,” said Wally — 
“ shall I never have him? ” 

“ Leave him alone,” said the mountain. 


52 


GEIER -WALLY; 


“ You must not love him ; for he is a chamois- 
hunter, and my daughters have sworn to ruin 
him. Come, I will take you to them ; so that 
they may kill your heart : otherwise, you could 
not exist in our eternal peace.’’ 

He led her through wide vestibules, and endless 
passages of ice. At last they came to a large 
chamber, which was as transparent as crystal ; 
and the sunbeams broke through it in thousands 
of colored sparks, while heaven and earth were 
strangely blended and shifted through the glit- 
tering walls. Here were white, snow-glistening, 
girlish figures, clad in undulating veils of mist, 
with a flock of chamois. It was amusing to 
watch them teasing the swift-footed animals, 
and running hither and thither after them. 
These were Murzoll’s daughters, and the fairies 
of the Oetz Valley. 

They gathered curiously about Wally when 
Murzoll put her down on the smooth surface of 
the ground. Their faces were like milk and blood ; 
and they were as beautiful as angels. But, when 
Wally looked at them more closely, she per- 
ceived, with a slight shudder, that their e^^es, like 
their father’s, were of ice, and the red in their 
cheeks was not blood, but only the juice of the 
Alpine rose. They were as frigid as frozen snow. 

“ Will you keep her with you? ” said Murzoll. 
“ I love her. She is as strong and powerful as a 
rock. She shall be your sister.” 

“ She is beautiful,” said the fairies. “ She ha ; 
the eyes of a deer. But she has warm bloods 
and we know that she loves a chamois-hunter.” 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


53 


“Then lay your hands on her heart, that all 
the love in it may become frozen ; and bewitch 
her like yourselves,” commanded Murzoll. 

The fairies pressed up to her ; and she felt as 
if a snow-storm were approaching her. The}'^ 
extended their cold white hands towards her 
heart ; and she already felt it beat more slowly, 
and begin to contract. Holding them back with 
her two hands, she exclaimed, “No, leave me; 
I will not become one of you. I will have 
Joseph!” 

“ If you return to men we will destroy Joseph, 
and precipitate you both into the abyss,” threat- 
ened they; “for no one can exist among men 
who has once laid e3^es on us.” 

“ Throw me into the abyss, but leave my love 
in my heart. I will endure all, all ; but I will 
not abandon my love ! ” And, with the strength 
of despair, Wally seized one of the fairies round 
the waist, and fought with her. Behold ! the 
delicate frame broke in her hand ; and nothing 
remained of it but melting snow. Daylight dis- 
appeared. Suddenly every thing was wrapped in 
a gray twilight. She was standing on a bare 
rock. A piercing wind blew across her face 
like man}^ needles of ice ; and, instead of the 
fairies, the snow whirled wildly about her. 
Through the clouds, high above her, Murzoll 
looked down grimly upon her, and said in a voice 
of thunder, “You resist both men and gods. 
Heaven and earth will oppose 3^011. Beware 1 ” 

Wally awoke: all had vanished. The night 
wind whistled through the cracks, and blew upon 


54 


GEIER -WALLY; 


Wally. Her heart still fluttered in her bosom 
at her ghostly dream ; and, rubbing her eyes, it 
was some minutes before she could remember 
where she was, and separate the real from the 
unreal. A horror which she could not deflne 
took possession of her, and mingled itself with 
the reality. Unconsciously rising from her bed, 
she called the servant. She went out of the hut 
to seek him. It had grown to be a clear, bright 
evening. The mists had evaporated ; but the sun 
was sinking, and the wind blew bleakly on the 
summit. 

Wally ran here and there after the deaf man. 
She found nothing but a pile of fagots, which he 
had gathered in a heap for her. She remembered 
that he had said, if she were still asleep, he 
would leave ; and it was thus he had not awaited 
her awakening. It was cruel of him to have 
abandoned her in her sleep. To awake and find 
no one was very hard. All was so quiet about 
her, so dreary and forlorn ! It must be about six 
o’clock, and time to milk the cattle. At home 
the faithful animals were probably watching the 
stable-door, and wondering whether the mistress 
was not coming to bring them salt and bread. 
Here, however, she folded her hands in her lap. 
Far and near, there were no signs of life. Oh 
the deathlike stillness, and the forced idleness ! 
She did not know what she felt, all w'as so lonely, 
so dreadfully lonely ! 

She climbed up higher, on to an overreaching 
ledge, to look down upon the wide world. A 
measureless landscape presented itself to her 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 55 

view, for the first time, in the royal purple of the 
setting sun. The hills of the Tyrol lay before 
her, reaching as far as the horizon, growing 
smaller in the distance. Close by, they were 
oppressive and overpowering in their quiet 
majesty and greatness. The flourishing high 
valleys rested between them, like children nestled 
in the arms of a parent. She was seized with 
an indescribable feeling of home-sickness at the 
thought of her native prairies sinking at present 
befoi’e her eyes in the shades of night. The sun, 
in disappearing, had left behind it, on the edge 
of the horizon, red and golden streaks in the 
violet- tinted clouds. The pale moonlight began 
at once to shine, and struggle for the mastery 
with the last dying rays of daylight. Night 
reigned in the valle3^s. A star of earth, hardly 
visible to the naked e^^e through the distance, 
seemed to twinkle like a little light here and 
there. Her industrious companions below her 
were retiring to rest. They were happy ; they 
all had a hospitable roof over their heads, and 
slept peaceful^ in the heart of their families ; 
perhaps they were still listening behind the bright 
curtain, at their small window, to the song of 
their well beloved ; while she alone was exiled 
and lonely here above, left without defence to 
face all dangers ; and her shelter was only a 
miserable hut, through ever}^ crack of which the 
wind worked its waj^ “O father, father! how 
could you have the heart for this?’’ called she 
loudly. But from near and far the only answer 
she received was the howling of the night wind. 


56 


GEIEE-WALLY; 


The moon rose higher and higher: the streaks 
of light in the west lost their gold-like glitter, 
and appeared like brass in the dark evening sky. 
The outlines of the mountains seemed to recede 
and broaden in the dim twilight. Her neighbor, 
the mighty Similaun, looked threateningly . upon 
her. All the gigantic summits near her seemed 
disposed to be her enemies, because she pre- 
sumed to watch their appearance at night. It 
was as though they had all grown quiet and still 
since Wally’s arrival, as when a stranger breaks 
in upon a group of people who are discussing 
some secret. Here stood this helpless human 
figure, alone in this quiet, dreary ice-world, be- 
yond the reach of all living beings, — a stranger 
in this unearthl}^ company of clouds and glaciers, 
in the midst of a horrible, m3-sterious silence. 

A voice in her seemed to cry, ‘‘Now you are 
alone in the world ! ’ ’ An indescribable fear, 
the fear of the forsaken, came over her. She 
seemed suddenly to feel as if she must be lost in 
this great unbounded space ; and she clung, as 
for help, to the rock, pressing her beating heart 
to the cold stone. 

What happened in that hour she could not tell ; 
but the stone on which she laid her young, warm, 
and trembling heart, seemed to have exercised 
over her a mysterious power. She became hard 
and rugged in that hour, as if in tmth she were 
Murzoll’s child. 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


57 


CHAPTER V. 

LUCKARD. 

H HEN the boy came up to her with the 
cattle, eight days afterwards, Wally 
seemed so troubled, that he was almost 
frightened. When he said to her, how- 
ever, “ Your father wishes to know whether you 
have had enough of it up here, and whether you 
are willing to be obedient to him,’^ she set her 
teeth together, and answered, “ Tell my father, 
that, sooner than do any thing from love for 
him who sent me up here, I will allow myself 
to be devoured, little by little, by the hawii.’’ 

That was the last message that passed between 
herself and her father. 

The mountain-wilds lost their horror, and her 
old courage returned to her, as soon as she had 
her little flock of goats and sheep about her. 
Other cattle could not have found sufiicient food 
in these heights. She was no longer lonely in 
the midst of her proteges : she again had some- 
thing to work for, something to attend to. For, 
although the vulture had been a faithful com- 
panion, it could not rid her of her inactivity, which 
almost drove her to despair, and allowed all 
gloomy thoughts to gain control over her. 

She became accustomed to the loneliness, and 
she loved and trusted it. 



58 


GEIER-WALLT; 


The daily small and great claims of life naiTOW 
and confine a large soul. Here above, Wally was 
able to give her thoughts free and unrestrained 
course. All was freedom here. No one was 
near to contradict her ; no foreign power opposed 
her ; and, being the only reasoning creature far 
and near, she felt like a queen on her lofty, 
lonely throne, — like a ruler in the measureless, 
picturesque kingdom she overlooked. She even 
gazed with pitying disdain from her loft}^ seat, 
on the miserable race below on earth, toiling and 
struggling, longing and yearning ; and, instead of 
homesickness, a certain feeling of loathing arose 
in her mind. Below, there was fighting, pain, 
and anguish. 

Murzoll had spoken truly in her dream. Here, 
in the pure region of ice and snow, in the clear 
atmosphere, undisturbed by smoke and other 
nuisances, dwelt innocence and peace. The pre- 
sentiment of noble things arose in her ; and her 
soul elevated itself far above the common level, 
in the midst of these mighty, peaceful mountains, 
which had at first so dismayed her. One only of 
the inhabitants of earth remained dear, beautiful, 
and gi'and to her, — Joseph, the slayer of the 
bear, the St. George of her dreams. And did 
he not live, like her, more in the hills than on 
earth? Had he not climbed all the heaven- 
ward-reaching peaks, on which no other would 
ventui’e, and fetched the chamois from the steep- 
est rocks? He feared nought in heaven or on 
earth. He was the strongest and most com-a- 
geous man, as she was the strongest and most 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL, 


59 


courageous maiden. No girl in the Tyrol could 
equal her ; and he could not be rivalled by any 
man in the 

They were two mountain giants. The small 
race on earth had nothing in common with them : 
they belonged to one another. 

In her loneliness, she lived only for his sake, 
and looked for the day when her anticipations 
should be realized. That day must come ; and, 
feeling convinced of this, she did not lose her 
patience. 

Summer came to an end ; and winter climbed 
into the valley's. She was soon to descend, with 
the snow and winds, its wild forerunners, into 
her alienated home. She shuddered at the 
thought. Like the wild she-bear, she would have 
rather crept into a cleft in the ice, and existed 
there, than have returned to the whirl and pangs 
which she would find in the low spinning-room, 
with her angry father, her hated wooer, and the 
malicious servants, all under the same roof, 
buried behind the banks of snow, from which, for 
weeks, there was sometimes no escaping. 

Her heart grew heavier ; and she, looked for- 
ward with desperation to the time, as it drew 
nearer. But the days went by without any one’s 
coming to fetch her. It seemed as if she had 
been forgotten by those below. The days gi’ew 
shorter, and the nights longer. The cold and 
winter increased. Two sheep were lost in a snow- 
storm. The animals could find no more nourish- 
ment; and the time for the cattle to be sent 
home had long since gone by. “ They want us 


60 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


to perish of hunger up here,” said Wally to the 
hawk, sharing with it her last piece of cheese. 
Her healthy youthful spirits struggled against the 
horrible thought; and a secret terror overcame 
her. What should she do ? Leave her innocent 
flock alone to perish, and find her own way 
home? No. Wally would not do that. Like a 
brave general, she would fall at the head of her 
troops. Neither could she undertake the journey 
alone with her fiock, as she did not know the 
road, and would wander about with them, seeing 
them perish one after the other in the snow and 
ice, or else stumble into the clefts in the rock. 
She could only wait. 

Finally, on a gloomy morning in autumn, 
when one could not see a foot ahead on account 
of the fog, the little flock was huddled to- 
gether trembling with cold, and Wally was sit- 
ting before the hearth, frozen almost to death, 
the boy appeared to conduct Wally home. 
Although she had shuddered at the thought of 
dying, with her cattle, of hunger, yet all her old 
aversion came over her at the idea of returning 
to her father ; and she did not know which she 
thought the worse evil of the two, — to perish by 
her rough father Murzoll, or to have to return to 
her own parent. 

The boy interrupted the silence by saying, 
“Your father says that you may onty appear 
before him if j^ou have made up 5"our mind to do 
as he wishes. If you have not yet recovered 
your senses, you are to remain in the stable with 
the cow-girl. But he has sworn that you shall 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


61 


not enter the house ! ” — “ I am glad of it,” said 
Wally, breathing more freely; and the boy 
looked at her with amazement. 

She descended now with a light heart. She 
was exempt from the society of those hateful 
people, and could live alone in the barn and the 
stable. Instead of a punishment, her father was 
conferring a blessing upon her. She could now 
follow out, undisturbed, her own ideas ; and she 
would have Luckard, who was always good to 
her, when she felt in need of encouragement. 
She had learned to appreciate the worth of such a 
faithful heart in the wilderness, for the first time ; 
and of that her father could not deprive her. 

She prepared herself, almost jo3rfully, for her 
homeward journey. Now that she no longer 
feared the hateful companionship of her father, 
she thought with joy of the pleasure the old 
woman would feel on seeing her foster-child 
return. After all, there was still some one to 
rejoice over below ; and the thought did her 
good. 

“ Come, Hansel,” said she to the hawk, after 
packing every thing (it was sitting in a forlorn 
way on the hearth) : “we will now go down to 
Luckard.” 

“Luckard is no longer at home,” said the 
boy. 

“ Why, where is she ? ” said Wally, startled. 

“ The high-peasant dismissed her.” 

“Dismissed her, — Luckard !” cried Wally. 
“ Why, what has happened? ” 

“She did not agree with Gellner Vincenz, 


62 


GEIEB -WALLY; 


who rules the high-peasant now,” answered he 
indifferently; and, whistling, he tied up Wally’s 
things. Wally grew pale. “And where is she 
now ? ” 

“ At old Annemiedel’s in Winterstall.” 

“ Wlien did this happen? ” 

“Oh! about ten weeks ago. She was very 
much upset ; and her knees were so weak that she 
could hardly run. Klettenmaier and Nazzi had 
to hold her up, or she would have fallen. The 
whole village stood by, and looked on, when it 
took place.” 

Wally had listened unmoved. Her brown face 
became pale ; and her breast heaved violently. 
Tearing her crook from off the wall, and placing 
the hawk on her shoulder, she started as soon as 
the boy had finished. 

“Make haste!” commanded she in a harsh 
voice. The flock was soon assembled, the milk- 
pans packed ; and the little procession began to 
move. Wally did not open her lips. Her fea- 
tures were much excited, her lips tightly pressed 
together ; and a deep wi’inkle between her e}’ es 
reminded one of her father, as she strode with 
tremendous strides before her cattle, and her 
feet left deep imprints in the snow. As she 
descended, she increased her speed ; so that the 
boy with the flock could hardly come up to her ; 
and, in the steep places, she sprang from rock to 
rock by the aid of the iron spike in her crook, 
which she forced into the stone ; and the hawk 
alone followed her over the crevices and cracks 
in the rock. The shepherd and the flock con- 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYBOL. 


63 


stantly disappeared in the mist behind her. She 
would then wait a moment until they again came 
in sight, and the boy had pointed out the road 
to her, and, without resting, she proceeded on 
her w^ay as if the life of a human being were 
dependent on her. 

At last the snow-regions were left behind, and 
Vent lay at Wally’s feet, as it had done six 
moons before, when she had ascended ; only 
that now, instead of shining in the sun of May, 
it was gloomy, cold, and wrapped in tlie death of 
autumn. The boy said they must rest in Vent. 
Wally hesitated ; but the boy said that it would 
harm both man and beast not to rest for half an 
hour. Stay,” said Wally : “ as far as I am con- 
cerned, I shall go on. I cannot now lose my way. 
When you reach home, if they ask 3^ou where I 
am, say I have gone to Luckard.” And she went 
on her way, surrounded by the rustle of Hansel’s 
wings, who could fly now as he liked, as Wally 
no longer clipped his pinions. She had now 
reached the spot where Luckard had bade her 
farewell, and left her on her ascent. ‘‘ Old Luck- 
ard!” Wally remembered her distinctly when 
she left her, wiping her eyes with her apron ; and 
she saw her brown, bony arms waving to her once 
more, and her silvered locks, which always ap- 
peared under her cap, floating on the wind. She 
had grown gray in honor and trust in Strommin- 
ger’s house ; and now there was shame resting on 
her white hair. 

Wally had parted so lightly from her, and for- 
bidden her to cry, and torn herself impatiently 


64 


GEIER -WALLY; 


from her side when the old woman, in her distress, 
clung to her ! She had had no presentiment of 
the fate she was sending to this helpless servant 
in her hard farewell greeting, and that Luckard 
would be outraged and insulted on her account. 
Wally ran and ran as though she could catch up 
to Luckard, who had left her six months before ; 
and, in spite of the frost, the perspiration rose 
on her brow, — the sweat of winged haste, bearing 
with it the heavy debt of gratitude. The tears 
came into her eyes as she saw the old woman 
proceeding before her, weeping silentl3^ Luckard 
walked so slowl}^ and Wally so rapidly, and yet 
they always seemed as far apart. Wally could 
not reach her ! 

Wally had to rest for an instant, and catch her 
breath. Wiping her eyes and her brow, she pro- 
ceeded unrelentingly on her journey. “Wait, 
Luckard, please wait, I am coming ! ” murmured 
she, breathless, as though to satisfy herself. 

The church- tower of Heiligkreuz at last appeared 
in view ; and a giddy bridge far above the Ache 
led from there to a solitary group of houses, on 
the opposite side of the precipice. It was there, 
in that little place, Winterstall, that Luckard was 
stopping. Wally turned off behind the houses of 
Heiligkreuz, and crossed the narrow bridge, under 
which the Ache roared and foamed, as though it 
would have covered the defiant maiden wdth its 
angr}^ spray. She looked down into the abyss, 
fearing neither danger nor giddiness. She crossed 
the bridge, climbed up a steep pathway, and at 
last reached Winterstall, the goal which she had 


OE, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


65 


been striving to attain, with a beating heart. On 
the right-hand side of the road was the hut of 
Luckard’s cousin, Annemiedel, with its small win- 
dows concealed under the overhanging, thatched 
roof. Wally drew a. long breath of relief as she 
imagined the old woman spinning inside, as was 
her habit in the winter. She arrived at the hut, 
and, before entering, looked smilingly into the 
house, through the small, low window, for Luckard. 
But there was no one in the room : it looked empty 
and dreary ; and a bed stood in it, untidily rolled 
up in a corner. A wooden crucifix, blackened with 
smoke, hung over it ; and attached to the cross was 
a bit of crape, and a dusty wreath of rue. Walty 
lost all her pleasure on looking upon this comfort- 
less picture. Placing the hawk on a railing, she 
opened the door, and crossed the narrow thresh- 
old. The kitchen-door was open at the end of the 
room ; and a small fire of brushwood crackled on 
the hearth. There was some one moving in the 
kitchen. It must be Luckard; and Wally en- 
tered with a beating heart. No one but the 
cousin was there : she was preparing her soup by 
the hearth. 

“O God! Stromminger’s Wally!” cried the 
old woman, in her amazement dropping the knife 
into the bowl. “ O my God, how sad ! ” 

“ Where is Luckard? ” said Wally. 

“ She is dead. O God and heavenly Father! 
we buried her yesterday. Had you only come 
three days ago ! ” 

Wally leaned with closed eyes against the door : 
she did not betray her emotion by a sound. 

5 


66 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


“ Oh, it is a pity ! ” continued the old woman 
loquaciously. “ Luckard fancied she could not 
die without seeing you once more. You always 
appeared in her cards ; and she listened and waited 
for you night and day. When she felt the ap- 
proach of death, she said, ‘ Now I must die 
without seeing that child again.' I had to fetch 
her the cards ; and, even in her last agonies, she 
wished to lay them for you ; but she could not. 
Her hands trembled on the quilt, and she said, ‘ I 
can see no longer,' and breathed her last." 

Wally covered her face with her hands. No 
sound had yet crossed her lips. 

“ Come into the room," said the old woman 
good-naturedly. “ I haven't been inside since 
we carried Luckard out. I have always been so 
lonely, that I was rejoiced when my cousin came 
to me and said she would stay with me. I soon 
saw that she would not survive the disgrace long. 
It weighed upon her, and she hardly took any 
food ; and I heard her cry, often, all the night 
long. She grew weaker and more feeble, until 
she died." 

Opening the door of the room into which Wally 
had peeped, they entered it. The dull flies of 
autumn were flying around. Luckard' s old 
spinning-wheel stood silently in a corner ; and 
the empty bed looked sadly towards her. From a 
niche in the wall, in which the black virgin of 
Altenotting was painted, the cousin took a well- 
thumbed pack of German cards. ‘‘ See here ! I 
kept these for you ; for I knew that you would 
come : these cards always said you would. They 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


67 


are bewitched ; and the pack is all the better for 
being covered with the sweat of death. I do not 
know what ill-luck awaits you ; but Luckard 
always looked at them in a terrified way, shaking 
her head. She did not tell me what she foresaw ; 
but it can have been nothing good."’ 

She gave Wally the cards. She took them 
quietl}^, and put them in her pocket. The cousin 
was astonished that Luckard’ s death should not 
affect her more : she was so quiet, and never shed 
a tear. “ I must go: my soup is on the fire,” 
said she. ‘‘You will take your dinner with me, 
will you not? ” 

“ Yes, yes,” said Wally in a hollow voice. 
“ Go, cousin, and let me rest a little. I came 
down in haste from the Hochjoch.” 

The old woman went out, shaking her head : 
“ If only Luckard had known what a hard-hearted 
thing she is.” 

As soon as Wally was alone, she drew the bolt, 
and sank on her knees before the empty bed. 
Drawing the cards from her pocket, she placed 
them before her, and folded her hands over them, 
as over a sainted relic. “Oh, oh!” she ex- 
claimed in bitter sorrow. “You had to die 
without my being near to you I All my life long 
you did me good, and loved me ; and I — I never 
rewarded you. Luckard, dear, dear old Luckard I 
don’t you hear? Now I am here ; and now it is 
too late. They wanted me to freeze up there ; 
left me there longer than any shepherd. What 
wickedness I It cost me two of my sheep, and 
you, as well, you dear, faithful servant ! ” 


G8 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


She sprang up suddenly. Her eyes, red with 
weeping, sparkled feverishly, and, clinching her 
fists convulsively, she said, “ But just wait, all of 
you over there, — wait till I come, you oppressors ! 
I will teach you to drive away innocent, helpless 
people. As God is above, Luckard, you shall 
hear me stand up for you in your grave ! ” 

Her eyes fell on the Christ over the death-bed. 
“And Thou, Thou alio west all to happen as it 
will. Thou helpest none who do not help them- 
selves,” said she angrily, in the violence of her 
grief, to the ever-patient, long-suifering God, 
whom she could never understand. 

She was terrible in her righteous anger. All 
belonging to the unbending nature of her father 
had unfolded itself, without limits, in the desert 
above ; and her noble and great soul, knowing 
only the purest impulses, forced, unconsciously, 
the most dangerous blood through her veins. 

Gathering her relics together, — the cards on 
which the fingers of the dying woman had traced 
her last message of love, — she went out into 
the kitchen to the cousin. 

“ I am going on now, cousin,” said she more 
calmly. “ Only tell me, please, what took place 
between Luckard and the high-peasant.” She 
no longer called him “ father.” 

The cousin had just prepared the soup in a 
wooden bowl, and compelled Wally to share it 
with her. “You know,” said she, while Wally 
ate, “ that Vincenz understands your father thor- 
oughly, and, since New Year, has completely 
won him over. Since the summer, Stromminger 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


69 


cannot walk, owing to a lame foot. Vincenz 
spends every evening with him, and whiles away 
the time in playing cards, and allows him always 
to win : he thinks he will get it all back when he 
gets you. The old man can positively no longer 
exist without Vincenz ; and he has finally made 
him overseer over all, because he cannot go 
about with his leg. Vincenz imagines that the 
high-farm belongs to him almost, and orders 
every one about as he chooses. That was the 
beginning of Luckard’s trouble. Luckard wished 
to see that all was done properly, as was her 
custom ; and he deprived her of all authority, so 
that she no longer had any control. When he 
saw, afterwards, that Luckard was pining away, 
he told her that he would allow her to work as 
she pleased ; and, as if she were mistress, he 
would shut one eye, and she might make as much 
as she could, provided she would consent to 
assist him to win you, for he knew well that she 
had great influence over you. Luckard became 
insolent at once. She had never stolen in her 
life, she said, and now, in her old age, she was 
not going to begin. She desired nothing but 
what she earned honestly ; and she would cer- 
tainly not recommend to Wally as a husband 
one capable of so infamous a suggestion. What 
did the mean fellow do then? He went to 
Stromminger, and complained of my cousin. He 
was now convinced, said he, that it was Luckard 
alone who had set you against him and your 
father. She was to blame for youv disobedience, 
said he, because she wished to retain the power 


70 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


over all in her own hand. And that is how it 
happened. And, though she knew that not one 
word of it was true, still it broke her heart that 
any one should think her guilty. When any one 
is so hardly treated, it makes me unhappy. Be- 
sides, she never told you to disobey your father, 
did she?” 

“Never, never! On the contrary, she was a 
humble, modest woman, and never spoke to me 
of what did not concern her,” said Wally; and 
her eyes became moist again. She turned her 
face away, and stood up. “God be with you, 
cousin ! I will return before long.” She seized 
her crook and her hat, called her hawk, and 
walked rapidly towards her home. 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


71 


CHAPTER VI. 

A DAY AT HOME. 

S Wally returned across the bridge, gid- 
diness overcame her. She felt the blood 
rush to her head for the first time. 
The soft air here below seemed to her 
oppressive and close, after the piercing wind on 
the hills. The bird clung to her shoulder as it 
was shaken by her motion in walking. All seemed 
suffering and indifferent to her. 

She reached her own village at last. She had 
to cross it to arrive at the high-farm, the last 
house in it. All the villagers, who had just fin- 
ished theii’ dinner, stuck their heads out of the win- 
dows, and pointed at her with their fingers : 
“ See the Hawk-Wally. At last you are allowed 
to come down ? So you have brought your hawk 
back with you ? Did you not freeze together ? 
So your father abandoned you up there! Let’s 
see how you look. You are as brown and shy as 
a Schnalzer shepherd. Dear, dear ! I suppose 
3^ou are subdued by being up there. Yes, yes, 
that is what happens when one does not obey 
one’s father.” She bent her eyes on the ground, 
as these malicious remarks were showered upon 
her, and blushed with shame and bitterness. 

Scorned, mocked, thus did the child of the 
high-peasant return to her home. 




72 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


And why ? An implacable hatred arose in her, 
far worse than anger ; for anger can be appeased. 
But real hate, growing out of an exasperated, 
ill-used heart, entangles a whole being with its 
roots, and is a continual work of unconscious ven- 
geance. 

Silently, Wally ascended the height behind the 
village, from which the proud high-farm looked 
down upon it. 

No one noticed her arrival, but the deaf Klet- 
tenmaier, who was cutting fagots in the wood- 
shed, for the winter’s use : all the others were in 
the fields. 

“God bless you!” said he, raising his cap 
before his master’s child. 

Setting her burden, the heavy Hansel, on the 
ground, she gave him her hand. 

“You know about Luckard? ” said he. 

Wally nodded. 

“ Yes, yes,” he continued, without, however, 
interrupting his labor. “ When Vincenz dis- 
likes any one, he rests not till he gets rid of him. 
He w^ould like to send me ofi*, because he knows 
I liked Luckard ; and he believes, when there is 
none left to help you on the farm, that 3^011 will 
not be so obstinate. As he can do nothing to 
me, he gives me the hardest work. I can scarcety 
do it now. You know I am seventy-six years 
old ; and this is the third day. Every day I have 
to split for him a cartload of wood. He would 
be satisfied, then, if he could say to Stromminger 
that I was useless, or if I would give up my place 
myself ; but that is impossible. What would 
become of me at my age? I must bear it I ” 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL, 


73 


Wally had listened to the old man with a 
gloomy expression. She hastened into the house 
to fetch him some bread and wine. But the store- 
room and the cellar were both locked. W ally went 
into the kitchen. Her heart ached ; for this had 
been Luckard’s home ; and she fancied the old 
woman must come to meet her, saying, How 
are you? what is it? what can I do for you?’^ 
All was over, however. A strange, robust ser- 
vant-girl sat by the fire, paring potatoes. 

“ WTiere are the keys? ’’ said Wally. 

“ What keys? ” 

“ Those belonging to the storeroom and cellar.’" 
The maid looked boldly at Wally: “Hoho! 
gently. Who are you ? ” 

“ You can imagine,” said Wally proudly. “ I 
am the daughter of the house.” 

“Haha!” laughed the girl. “Then just get 
out of the kitchen ! Stromminger has forbidden 
you to enter into his house. Your room is in the 
barn . Do you understand ? ’ ’ 

Wally was as pale as death. Thus was she to 
come back to her father’s house? 

Wallburga Strommingerin was to be lower than 
the lowest servant in her own inheritance? It 
was not merely to banish her from her father’s 
side : it was intended to crush her with painful 
humiliation. And this towards Wally, the Hawk- 
Wally, of whom her father had once proudly 
said, “ A girl like her is worth ten boys ! ” 

“ Give me the keys ! ” ordered she sternly. 
“Haha! That is better still. Stromminger 
said that you were to be treated like a cow-girl ; 


74 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


so that there can be no question about the keys. 
I am manager in the house, and give up nothing 
but what is ordered by the high-peasant.’’ 

“ The keys ! ” cried Wally angrily. I order 
you to give them to me ! ” 

“You know you have no right to order me 
about? I am in Stromminger’s service, and not 
in yom'S. I am mistress in the kitchen : do you 
understand? It is Stromminger’s wish; and 
Stromminger must know. Why, he esteems his 
own child lower than us servants ! ” 

Wally approached the girl : her eyes sparkled, 
and her mouth trembled. The girl grew fright- 
ened. Wally, however, only struggled for an 
instant: her pride conquered her. She could 
have nothing to do with the wretched sersmnt- 
girl. She went out. She had too much to 
endure to-day. Her pulses beat, a mist came 
over her eyes ; and her bosom heaved to and fro 
as she gasped for breath. She crossed the yard 
like a sleep-walker; took the axe from the old 
man’s hand. He was trembling from his exer- 
tions. She led him to a bench, where he might 
rest himself. 

Klettenmaier resisted her honestly. He dared 
not cease from his labor; but Wally explained 
that she would do his work for him. 

“ God bless you ! you have a good heart,” said 
he, sitting wearily down on the bench. Wally 
went under the shed, and split the heavy logs of 
wood with mighty strokes. At every stroke of 
her axe, it entered deeply into the chopping- 
block. 


OJR, A TALE OF THE TYROL, 75 

Klettenmaier looked at her admiringly. She did 
it better than a man. 

It rejoiced him to see it. Had he not seen that 
child since her birth? and it pleased him to see 
how she had grown up. Wally unconsciously 
stopped as she saw Vincenz’s hated figure 
coming towards her in the distance. Vincenz 
did not see her. He came up behind Kletten- 
maier, and stood suddenly right in front of him. 
Wally watched him from the shed. Seizing the 
servant by his waistcoat, he dragged him up. 
“ Halloo ! ” said he, yelling into his ear : “ that 
is what you call working, is it? You lazy, 
good-for-nothing fellow ! You are always hanging 
about, doing nothing; and I have had enough 
of this. I will let you feel my heels ! ” And, 
giving him a blow with his knee, the feeble old 
man fell his whole length on the pavement of the 
yard. 

“ O peasant ! help me up,’’ entreated the ser- 
vant. But Vincenz had seized a whip, and ex- 
claimed, “Just wait: you shall see how a mis- 
erable servant should be assisted.” At that 
moment, Vincenz received a blow on his head, 
and, with a cry, staggered back. “ Good God ! 
what is that? said he, stammering, and sank 
down on the bench. 

“That is Geier- Wally 1 ” answered a voice 
trembling with rage. And Wally stood before 
him, her axe in her hand, with white lips, and 
glazed eyes, struggling to regain her breath, as 
though suffocated by the wild beating of the 
heart. “ Do you know now? ” said she breath- 


76 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


lessly , — “do you know how it feels when one is 
beaten ? I will teach you to abuse my faithful 
old servant. You have brought Luckard to her 
grave, and now you wish to do the same to poor 
Klettenmaier. No! sooner than peimit such 
cruelties, I will set my inheritance on fire, and 
smoke you out of it, as one smokes out a fox.’* 
She had meanwhile assisted Klettenmaier to rise, 
and, leading him to the barn, commanded him to 
go in. 

“ Go in, Klettenmaier, and rest. I wish it.” 

Klettenmaier obeyed : he realized who was lord 
at that moment. Leaving her at the door, he 
shook his head, sajdng, “Go, Wally — you 
should not have done that — go and look after 
Vincenz : I fancy you must have hit him hard. ’ 

She left the old man, and went out again. 
Vincenz was motionless. She cast a shy look at 
him. He had lost consciousness, and lay extend- 
ed on the bench, while drops of blood oozed from 
his head on to the sand. Without hesitating, 
Wally went into the kitchen, and called to the 
maid, “ Come out and help me, and bring some 
vinegar and a cloth with you.” 

“ What, ordering again? ” said the girl, laugh- 
ing, and without stirring. 

“ It is not for me,” said Wally with an angry, 
disturbed look, taking the vinegar-bottle from the 
shelf. “ Vincenz is lying outside. I have struck 
him.” 

“Holy Virgin! ” screamed the servant-girl; 
and, instead of going to Vincenz’ assistance, she 
ran round the house and yard, screaming, “Help ! 
Wally has knocked over Vincenz ! ” 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 77 

The cry of alarm resounded on all sides, and 
was heard even in the village ; and all rushed to 
the spot. 

Wally had meanwhile called Klettenmaier to 
her side, and was rubbing the unconscious man 
with vinegar and water. She could not under- 
stand wh}^ the wound should be so serious. She 
had not hit him with the edge, but with the back, 
of the axe ; but she did not herself realize the 
power of her blow. She had given vent to her 
long-contained anger in that blow ; so that it 
split like the wood shortly before. 

“ What has happened here? ” said a voice in 
Wally’s ear, the sound of which curdled her 
blood in her veins. Her father had dragged him- 
self out on his crutches. 

“ What has happened here? ” said twenty or 
thirty voices, one after the other ; and the yard 
filled itself with people. 

Wally was silent. 

A dull murmur arose about her. All pressed 
up to feel and look at the lifeless man. “ Is 
he dead?” “Will he die?” “How did it 
happen?” “Did Wally do it?” sounded on 
all sides. 

She stood there, seemingly hearing and seeing 
nothing, and laid a bandage on the head of the 
wounded. 

“ Can you not speak? ” thundered her father. 
“ Wally, what have you done? ” 

“ You see what I have done,” was her short 
answer. 

“ She acknowledges it ! ” cried they all wildly. 


78 


GEIER-WALLY; 


“ God, what audaciousness !” 

“You bird of the gallows!” cried Strom* 
minger. “Is it thus that you return to your 
father’s house? ” 

At the words, “ father’s house,” Wally broke 
out into a bitter laugh, and looked at him with a 
penetrating glance. 

“Laugh away!” cried Stromminger. “I 
thought you would improve up above ; and, before 
you are at home for a quarter of an hour, you 
bring trouble upon us again.” 

“ He mctved,” called one of the women : “he 
still lives.” 

“ Carry him into the house, and lay him on 
my bed,” ordered Stromminger, and made room 
for them to pass by the kitchen-door, where he 
was standing. 

Two men lifted Vincenz, and carried him in. 

“ If we only had a doctor,” moaned the 
women, following him into the room. 

“ If we still had Luckard, we would require no 
doctor,” said two men. “ She knew what to do 
for every thing.” 

“ Let some one fetch her,” ordered Strom- 
minger. “ She must come at once.” 

Again Wally burst into a laugh. “Yes, Luck- 
ard ! You would have her back now, eh, Strom- 
minger ? Fetch her from the gTaveyard ! ’ ’ 

The people looked at her with suiprise. “ Is 
she dead? ” asked Stromminger. 

“ Yes, she died three days ago. She died of a 
broken heart, — of the pain you brought upon her. 
Now you are rewarded, Stromminger; and he 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


79 


dies in there, because there is no one who under- 
stands how to cure him near by. It will serve 
him right : he deserves it ! ” 

A tumult now arose. It was too bad, ‘‘ after 
such an act, to speak so, and say that ‘ it served 
him right,’ instead of repenting. No one’s life 
will be secure after this ; and Stromminger stands 
by, allowing her to talk as she pleases. That is a 
nice kind of father! ” They spoke thus, while 
Wally stood under the door of the kitchen, look- 
ing defiantly at her father, with her arms folded ; 
and Stromminger was unconsciously alarmed at 
her reproach. Now, however, his rage was dou- 
bled ; and, drawing himself up with his crutches, 
he exclaimed to the crowd, “ I will show you 
what kind of a father I am ! Take her and bind 
her.” 

“ Yes, yes 1 ” cried they all, “ bind her. Such 
a girl should be confined with bar and bolt. She 
must be judged, the murderess I ” 

At the word “murderess,” Wa^ gave a stifled 
cry, and receded into the kitchen. 

“ Hold I ” cried Stromminger. “ My daughter 
shall never be dragged before a judge. Do you 
think I will allow the child of the high-peasant 
to be put into a prison ? 

“ Do you not know Stromminger? Do I need 
an act from a tribunal to punish a degenerate 
child? I am powerful enough myself, and am 
judge on my own property and land. I will 
show you what Stromminger is, although I am 
lame. I will confine her in the cellar until her 
spirit is broken, and she falls on her knees to 


80 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


me before you all. You have all heard me ; and, 
if I do not keep my word, you may call me what 
you please.” 

“ Merciful God, have you no more judgment ! ” 
cried Walty. “ No, no, father, do not confine 
me ! For God’s sake, do not imprison me ! 
Drive me away ; send me to freeze to death on 
Murzoll ; I will die of hunger, or freeze to death : 
but leave me under the open skies. Something 
dreadful will happen, if you lock me up ! ” 

‘‘Aha! you would like to go away again : it 
would suit 3^ou better to become a vagrant? 
Nothing of the kind. Until now I have always 
been too lenient with you. You shall remain be- 
hind bolt and bar until you beg forgiveness from 
me and Vincenz.” 

“Father, that is of no use with me. Sooner 
than do it, I will perish in the cellar : you know 
that very well. Let me go, father, or — I tell 
3W1 once more — something dreadful will hap- 
pen.” 

“You have talked enough. What are you all 
standing there for? What are you thinking 
about? Can I, crippled as I am, run after her? 
Catch her, but hold her tight ; for Stromminger 
blood can beat ten of you I Be careful I ” 

The men, infuriated by this scorn, pressed into 
the kitchen. “We will have her at once!” 
mocked they. 

With one bound, Wally sprang towards the 
hearth, and seized from the fire burning logs of 
woods. “The first one who comes near me, I 
will singe his hair, and burn him ! ” yelled she. 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYBOL. 81 

standing there, like the archangel armed with the 
flaming sword. 

All drew back. 

‘ ‘ Shame on you ! ’ ’ cried Stromminger . ‘ ‘ Shall 
one girl conquer j’^ou all? Knock the logs out of 
her hands with sticks,’ ' ordered he feverishly, 
with anger, as it now became a point of honor 
with him ; for he must master his daughter before 
the entme village. A few ran off for their canes. 
It was like hunting down a wild animal ; and 
Wally had really become like a furious beast. 
With bloodshot e3*es, and the -sweat of terror on 
her brow, and her teeth pressed tightly together, 
she fought against the multitude, — fought like the 
animals of the wilderness, without thought for 
any thing but her freedom, — the one element of 
her existence. 

They struck at the burning logs in her hands, 
her only weapons : so she threw the brands into 
their midst, and they drew back, yelling. She 
continuall}" drew others from the hearth, and threw 
them, like bullets of fire, at the heads of her 
assailants. The tumult increased. 

“ Bring water ! ” cried Stromminger, — “ bring 
water, and extinguish the fire ! ’ ’ 

That was the end of all. If this were done, 
Wally would be lost. A moment more, and the 
water would be there. Despair seized the girl. 
A thought came over her, — an awful and desper- 
ate thought. But this was no time for reflection. 
No sooner thought than done ; and forcing her 
way through the crowd, swinging the firebrands 
about her, she rushed with the speed of an arrow 


82 


GEIEli-WALLY; 


across the yard, and cast the burning log with 
great strength into the hay-loft, in the midst of 
the hay and straw. 

A cry of horror arose. 

“Now put it out ! ” screamed Wally, and flew 
across the yard, and out of the gate, farther and 
farther away, while all hastened with gToans and 
yells to extinguish the Are ; for the flames were 
already forcing their way through the roof. 

A dark shadow rose from the roof at the same 
time as the pillar of smoke, as though emanat- 
ing from the fire. It made three or four circles 
in the air above it, and then flew in the direction 
taken by Wally. 

Wally heard the rustling behind her. She 
thought it must be her pursuers, and ran blindly 
on. Evening approached ; but it would not grow 
dark. A bright light trembled about her, so 
that she could be seen from afar. Clinging on to 
the crest of a rock, from which she could over- 
look the road, she perceived that her pursuer 
was coming through the air. She had attained 
her object. No one thought of following her: 
it was necessary to save the farm ; and all were 
assisting. The hawk now reached her, and shot 
down upon her with such force, that she was 
almost thrown off* the rock. She pressed the 
bird to her heart, and sanlr exhausted to the 
ground. With swimming eyes did she gaze at 
the light of the fire illuminating the distant 
scenes, and casting its rays on the peaks of the 
mountains. With an angry and excited expres- 
sion she looked on her handiwork, ; — looked at it 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


83 


threateningly and as a conqueror. The bells of 
all the church-towers in the neighborhood rang 
out their peal of distress ; and she heard them 
murmuring distinctly, “ The incendiary, the in- 
cendiary ! ” 

But the fearful refrain soothed her to sleep ; 
and unconsciousness soon dropped its veil over 
her overwrought soul. 


84 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


CHAPTER VII. 

HARD WOOD. 

ROFOUND darkness surrounded Wally 
when she awoke. The fire was ex- 
tinguished ; the bells had ceased ringing ; 
and the Ache thundered on its course. 
A star twinkled above her. Lying motionless 
on her back, she looked up at it. It seemed to 
cast a forgiving glance on her. A strange sense 
of comfort was wafted on the night air. The 
wind cooled her fevered brow ; and she sat up, 
trying to collect her thoughts. It could not be 
late. The moon had not yet risen. The fire 
must have been speedily extinguished. It could 
not fail to be so, surrounded on all sides and 
instantly by people who could assist. One log 
could not have done much damage. She did not 
know why ; but she tried and examined herself 
to the bottom of her heart, and she could not 
feel herself to be guilty. She had only acted 
from necessity, to keep her pursuers away from 
her, in giving them something else to occupy 
themselves about. She knew well that she 
would now be called an incendiary ; but was she 
really one? She raised her eyes to the star 
above her. It seemed as if she now poured out 
her heart to God for the first time ; and his mes- 
sage to her was pardon. The skies looked down 




OBy A TALE OF TEE TYROL. 


85 


on her peacefully. Had she not done all for love 
of them? She could breathe freely only under 
that starry dome lined with clouds. It would have 
killed her, would have been impossible for her to 
exist, in a low cellar for weeks and months, 
without air, and without light, until she had been 
obliged to take refuge in the house of her detested 
lover, and to have knelt in shame and scorn at 
her father’s feet, imploring his forgiveness. 

The girl who had spent six long months alone 
in the shelter of the mountains could not allow 
herself to be trampled down like an animal. 
She had not feared the wild companions she 
found on the hills, or the storm, rain, and hail, 
and the sleepless nights spent in watching. Her 
brow had been kissed by the fire of heaven before 
sinking below the earth ; while the thunder raged 
in all its fury in the clouds above, before spread- 
ing its power through the air. 

This girl, who had risked her life daity, spring- 
ing over some deep crevice in the rocks to save 
the life of a lost chamois — she could no longer 
endure the tyranny, or comprehend the small 
ideas, of men. She was compelled to struggle 
with them for life or death. Man had no more 
any power over her. He had abandoned her, 
and made her the companion of the elements. 
Was it strange that she should invoke the aid of 
one of her comrades, fire, in her struggle with 
humanity ? 

She could not explain it all : she had never 
been taught to reflect. She did not know why; 
but she felt that God supported her. He judged 


86 


GEIEB-WALLT; 


from his throne on high with other judgment 
than men. Had not all seemed small to her 
when she had looked down from her mountain- 
heights ? She had once thought every thing in 
the valley great : how must it strike him in the 
heavens above ! God alone understood her ; 
and, if all below considered her criminal, God 
absolved her. 

She arose ; and, shaking off the load on her 
heart, she became herself again, — a vigorous, 
confident, strong, and free maiden. 

“ Now, Hansel, what is to become of us?” 
said she to the hawk. She had learned to speak 
to him out loud in every emergency. Hansel 
had just perceived a night-worm : it caught it, 
and swallowed it. 

“ You are right,” said Wally : “ we must look 
about for our daily bread. You are lucky. 
You are able to find it everywhere, while I ” — 
Hansel suddenly became excited, flew up, and 
seemed to observe something in the distance. 

It struck Wally, that, now that the fire was 
extinguished, they might seek her, and that she 
should go on as fast as possible. But where ? Her 
first thought was Solden. But the blood rushed to 
her face. Might not Joseph think, then, that she 
was running after him ? And should he see her 
driven away from home, in disgrace and shame, 
poor, and accused of being an “ incendiary” ? 

No ! he, least of all, should see her thus. She 
would fly to the end of the world. Without further 
reflection, she took the hawk on her shoulder, 
her only wealth and property, and started in 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 87 

the direction of Heiligkreuz, from which she had 
come that morning. 

Two hours elapsed. Her feet were cut, and she 
completely exhausted, when, through the gloom, 
the steeple of Heiligkreuz arose before her ; and 
the moon shone through the open bell-tower, like 
a lamp in a lighthouse, and indicated the way to 
the poor wanderer. 

Staggering with fatigue, she dragged herself 
through the village to the church. From time to 
time, as she passed by, a dog would begin to 
bark. Any one perceiving her would have taken 
her for a thief. She trembled from head to foot, 
as though she really were one. What had be- 
come of the proud Stromminger Wally? 

The rectory was behind the church. A wood 
bench stood by the door, over which hung the 
faded plants of the mountain-carnations, growing 
in a box on the window-sill. Wally had resolved 
to await here the break of day ; the priest would, 
at all events, protect her from ill usage. She laid 
herself on the seat, placed Hansel on the window- 
ledge by her head, and Nature soon asserted her 
claims. She sank into a deep sleep. 

‘‘Good Lord! what kind of a foundling is 
this? ’’ sounded in Wally’s ear ; and, on opening 
her eyes, she found it was broad daylight ; and 
by her side stood the rector himself. 

“Jesus be praised!” stammered Wally, em- 
barrassed, and put her feet on the ground. 

“ For ever and ever. Amen ! My child, how 
did you come here? Who are you? and what 
strange companion is this which you have with 


88 


GEIER -WALLY; 


you? One might almost be alarmed,” said the 
reverend priest, smiling pleasantly. 

“Honored sir,” said Wally simply, “I have 
a heavy load on my conscience, and would like 
to confess it to you. My name is Wallburga ; 
and I belong to Stromminger of the high-farm 
on the Sonneplatten. I have fled from home. 
You must know. I had trouble with Gellner 
Vincenz, and knocked a hole in his head ; and 
then I set Are to my father's barn.” 

The priest clasped his hands together : “ God 
be with us ! What, horrors ! So young, and yet 
so wicked ! 

“Your honor, I am not generally wicked ; I 
am sure of it. I cannot harm a fl3^ But they 
drove me to it,” said Wally, and looked up at the 
rector with her great, honest eyes ; so that he 
was compelled to believe her, whether he wished 
to or not. “ Come in,” said he “ and tell me all 
about it; but leave that monster outside.” He 
meant the vulture. Wally threw the bird in the 
air, and it flew on to the roof. She then fol- 
lowed the priest into the small house. He made 
her come into his room. 

Here all was peaceful and silent. In the al- 
cove stood a rough wooden bedstead, on which 
were painted two flaming hearts. They repre- 
sented to the rector the hearts of our Saviour and 
the Virgin Mary. Over the bed was a vase of 
holy water, and a shelf, on which were books. 
There were several bookcases in the room, and 
an old desk, a brown bench behind the heavy 
oaken table, and a few wooden chairs. A prie- 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


89 


Dieu. stood under the large crucifix, wreathed 
with edelweiss, and a few colored prints of the 
pope and various saints. A cage with a cross- 
bill in it hung from the ceiling. An ancient 
bureau, with brass handles in the shape of lions’ 
heads, with rings in their mouths, completed his 
furniture. All kinds of pretty things were to be 
found on this bureau, — a shrine with a carved 
saint, a glass box containing a wax image of 
the Christ-child in a red silk cradle, a glass 
spinning-wheel; and under a glass globe was a 
gilded bunch of flowers (such as are made in 
convents) in a yellow vase. Besides these was 
a small box covered with many-colored shells, a 
tiny mine in a bottle, and, as centre-piece, a small 
manger made of moss and flint-stones, with di- 
minutive figures of men and beasts. 

Close to these holy objects were a few cups and 
saucers ; and on either side of the birth of Jesus 
were two crystal salt-cellars. All was as neatly 
kept as though dust did not exist. This bureau, 
with its many odd ornaments, was the childlike 
altar erected by the lonely priest six thousand 
feet above the sea and modern culture. 

He probably stood here often, when the snow 
was whirling outside, and the small wooden house 
was shaken by the storm, and looking down into 
this tiny, ever-changing world, would smile, and 
shake his head, saying, “ What will man attempt 
next? ” 

Wally thought the same, as, in passing, she 
timidly glanced at all these marvellous things. 
In spite of her father’s wealth, such ornaments 


90 


GEim-WALLY; 


had never found their way into his house ; and 
what would the rough peasants have done with 
them ? She had never seen any thing approaching 
to it, — she, who had considered her spinning- 
wheel near her scythes and pitchforks the height 
of luxury and decoration. She almost felt unable 
to move in this room without breaking something. 
She must be particularly careful here. Uncon- 
sciously, she desired to leave her heavy, spiked 
mountain-shoes before the door, so as not to 
injure the smooth, well-scrubbed boards ; but the 
rector forbade it: so she stepped on them as 
lightly as she could, and seated herself on the 
edge of the seat offered to her by the priest. He 
allowed his clear, pleasant eyes to rest on her ; 
and he noticed that she could not draw her atten- 
tion from the ornaments on the bureau. The old 
man was well versed in the knowledge of humani- 
ty. “ Perhaps you might like first to examine my 
pretty things? Do so, my child. You will other- 
wise be unable to concentrate your thoughts on 
the serious subjects which we wish to discuss.’’ 

He led Wally to the bureau, and showed her 
all, explaining what they were, and where they 
came from. 

Wally did not dare to open her lips, but lis- 
tened with profound respect and reverence. When 
they came to the manger (they kept the best for 
the last), the rector said, “See ! behind there is 
J erusalem : these are the three holy kings who 
made a pilgrimage to our Saviour. Look here ! 
this is the star that led them on ; and there lies 
the little Child in the manger, having as yet no 


OE, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


91 


idea that he is born to suffer for the sins of the 
whole world. He cannot yet reflect ; and he 
brought no power with him out of his heavenly 
home ; because the Son of God was to be like 
any other human being, — a common man ; other- 
wise, men could have said that it was no wonder 
that Jesus Christ was so good and patient ; for 
he was God's Son, and had heavenly strength. 
A mere human being could not follow such an 
example. Alas ! they say so often enough, even 
now, and continue, consequently, in their sins." 

Wally gazed upon the tiny naked child, with 
its halo of gold paper ; and, as she thought of 
the stern, gloomy “ Lord on the cross " as a poor 
helpless child, born to suffer, she pitied him ; and 
it pained her to think of her cross words to her 
crucifled Master, at Luckard’s death-bed the day 
before. 

“ But why did he allow all this to happen to 
him?" said she unconsciously, more to herself 
than to the priest. 

“ Because he wished to show to mankind not to 
return evil for evil, or to revenge themselves ; for 
God has said, ‘Vengeance is mine!'" Wally 
blushed, and lowered her eyes. 

“ Now come, my child," said the clever man, 
— “ come and confess." 

“ That will be a short matter, your honor," 
said Wally ; and, honest as she always was, she 
told how all had happened, without any excuse, 
although she spoke almost in a whisper ; and her 
confessor soon grasped the whole connection of 
her story. A powerful sketch of life unrolled 


92 


GEIEB-WALLT; 


itself before him in her uneultivated language ; 
and he pitied the noble young existence rendered 
savage by her life spent with rough people, and 
in sharp rocks. 

When Wally had finished, he sat for some 
time in deep thought. His eyes were fixed on 
an old worn book on his book-shelf, which he 
had received from a stranger to whom he had 
once given shelter. On the cover was printed in 
gold letters, Nibelungen Lied. 

“Sir,” said Wally, imagining the expression 
on his face to be one of reproach, “ all came so 
together ! I was still angry about Luckard, and 
he struck Klettenmaier ! You see, I could not 
allow any one to hit the old man ; and, if it should 
happen again, I should do the same thing.over 
again. Don’t you understand, that if one sets 
fire to a house in the middle of the day, when it 
is surrounded by people, much harm cannot be 
done ? I could defend myself no longer : so I 
thought, that, if they had to put the fire out, they 
would have to leave me alone. And I am not an 
incendiary, though the}'’ should call me so over 
and over again. And, if that is a sin, I do not 
know what one is to do in the world, where the 
people are so wieked, and try to do so much 
harm ; for one must defend one’s self.” 

“ One must do as did Jesus Christ, — bear and 
forbear,” said the priest. 

“Well, you know, sir,” said Wally, “our 
Lord Jesus Christ knew why he suffered ; for 
he wished to teach mankind. But I do not know 
why I should do so ; for no one in all the Oetz 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


93 


Valley will learn of me. It would have been of 
no use my allowing myself to be locked up in the 
cellar ; for it would have set no one an example, 
and would, perhaps, have cost me my life."’ 

The priest reflected for an instant ; and then 
he raised his pleasant, piercing eyes to Wally. 
Shaking his head, he said, “You unruly child! 
you would like even to quarrel with me. The}' 
must have abused and excited you terribly, for 
you to seek enmity and opposition everywhere. 
Just pause a moment, and think where you are. 
You are with one of God’s servants ; and God 
says, ‘ I am love.’ That should be no mere maxim 
to you. I will prove to you the truth of it. I 
will say to you, that, though men reject and 
despise you, God still loves and forgives j'ou. 
The harsh people, the dreary hills, and the furi- 
ous storms, have made you what you are, and 
God knows all about it ; for he looks into your 
heart, and sees that it is good and honest, 
although you have erred. He knows that no 
garden flowers can grow in the desert, and that 
blunt axes cannot carve fine wood carvings. But 
now listen. When our Lord and Master finds a 
rough carving made out of particularly good wood, 
so that he thinks it worth while to improve it, he 
takes a knife himself, and carves the unfinished 
man, so that he becomes something beautiful. 
Now, I think that you should take care not to 
harden your nature any more, because, you know, 
if, after our Lord makes one or two attempts, he 
finds the wood too hard, he becomes discouraged, 
and abandons the work. Watch, my child, let 


94 


GEIEE -WALLY; 


your heart grow softer, and be moulded accord- 
ing to God’s will. When you feel yourself par- 
ticularly tried, be thoughtful, and remember that 
it is God’s hand working on you ; and, when a 
grief wounds your innermost soul, try and think 
that it is caused by the knife of God, cutting off 
the edges. Do you understand me?” 

Wally nodded doubtfully. 

“Now,” said the old man, “I will endeavor 
to explain it to you more clearly. Which would 
you rather be, — a rough stick with which one 
knocks down men, and which is thrown into the 
fire as soon as it grows useless ; or a little figure 
of a saint, like the one over there, which we 
place in a shrine, and gaze at with reverence and 
awe?” 

Wally now understood him, and nodded bright- 
ly. “ Why, naturally I would rather be a figure 
of a saint ! ” 

“Now, you see rude hands have fashioned 
you like a block of wood ; but God’s hand can 
carve out of it such an image, if you only fulfil 
his commands.” 

Wally stared at the priest with deep amaze- 
ment: she felt the most strange sensation, re- 
joiced, and yet tearful. After a long pause, she 
said shyly, “ I don’t know how it is ; but all is 
quite different here with j^ou than it is else- 
where. No one has ever spoken to me so. The 
rector of Solden always scolded me, and spoke 
of the devil and our sins ; and I did not know 
what he meant, for, at that time, I had done 
nothing wrong. But you speak so that one can 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL, 


95 


understand ; and — I think if I could stop with 
you, it would be the best thing for me. I would 
work day and night to earn my bread.’’ 

The rector reflected for some time, and then 
shook his head sadly. “ My poor child, that 
cannot be. As I think of it, it would not do. I 
can forgive 3^011 in God’s name ; but I may not do 
so before men. For God sees the intention; and 
men, only the act. A priest is a different creature 
in the confessional and in his congregation. Pie 
is the apostle of peace and mercy in the former ; 
and, in the latter, the apostle of justice. 
his preaching and example, he must exhort man- 
kind to honor and keep the law. Think, what 
would people say if a priest received under his 
roof an incendiary? Would they understand my 
object in so doing? Never. They would con- 
clude that I was injuring them in receiving under 
my protection a law-breaker. And suppose we 
should suffer later on from a terrible fire. I 
should reproach mj^self bitterly that my leniency 
towards you should have caused it. Can you 
appreciate this, and accept it without murmur- 
ing, as the unavoidable consequence of your 
deed?” 

“Yes,” said Wally gloomily ; and her eyes grew 
red as she kept back her tears. Rising quickly 
from her seat, she said roughly: “Well, I am 
much obliged to j^ou, sir, and must wish you 
good-day.” 

“Hoho!” exclaimed the priest, “ 3’ou had 
better go out by the roof! Don’t you think that 
if you went through the wall, instead of the 


96 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


door, it would be shorter ? I should advise j^ou 
to go through the wall.’* 

Wally, much ashamed, stood still, looking on 
the ground. The old gentleman allowed his eyes 
to rest on her in amused wonder. 

“ What will it cost to tame that wild blood? 
Does one run off in that way ? Did I say I would 
abandon you to fate, although I am unable to 
receive you under my roof? You must first break- 
fast with me, for man must eat ; and God knows 
how long it is since you have tasted food. Then 
we will talk more. ’ ’ He went to the little window 
leading into the kitchen, and called to the old 
servant to prepare breakfast for three. Then sit- 
ting down at his desk, he wrote out one or two 
names of peasants, whom he knew to be honest 
people. 

“ See, here is a list of upright men and women 
that are to be found in the Oetz and Gurgler 
Vallej’s,” said he to Wally. “ Try to enter into 
their service. Beyond, in the mountains, no one 
knows yet of your offence ; and, before they hear 
of it, you will already have shown 5'Ourself to be 
a good servant, and they will pass it over. You 
must not appeal to me ; but you are as strong 
and powerful as a man, and they will gladly take 
you in. If 3^011 choose, you can work well, and 
make ^"ourself useful. But 3"OU must learn to 
obey, and become accustomed to orderl}" habits, 
or 3^011 will not succeed. I do not ask 3^ou to 
return to your father, to be locked up in the cel- 
lar ; for that would be an unworthy punishment, 
and would do 3^011 more harm than good. Neither 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


97 


do I require you to marry Vincenz out of obe- 
dience to your father’s wishes, and thus make 
your entire life one of misery. But I do exact 
that you should overcome your wild habits, and 
become a sensible, reasonable being, in the ser- 
vice of honest people, and be once more a use- 
ful member of society. Will you promise me 
this ? ’ ’ 

“ I will try,” said Wally, with her unchange- 
able honest3^ 

“Well, ^at is all I can expect of yon at 
present ; for I know that you can conscientious^ 
promise no more. But try earnestly, and remem- 
ber that God throws away too hard wood. I 
will go to your father to-day, and persuade him 
to forgive 3^ou, and reconcile himself with you, 
or, at all events, make him consent to leave 3^011 
alone. Let me know soon where you are, so that 
I may write to you, and let 3^00 know how things 
are working.” 

Marianne brought the breakfast ; and the priest 
offered up a morning prayer. Wally, too, folded 
her hands reverently, and prayed from her inner- 
most soul to God, for his help, to enable her to 
become good and true. She was in great earnest : 
she would so willingl3^ have been good and true, 
had she only known how to set about it. 

When the pra3xr was ended, they all three — 
the priest, Marianne, and Wally — sat down to 
their meal. They had hardly begun it, when a 
noise arose outside: “A vulture! Look at it, 
up there on the roof! Let us shoot it! Bring 
some rifles ! ” 


7 


98 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


“Lord, my Hansel!” cried Wally. She 
sprang up, and wished to go out. 

“Stop!” cried the priest. “What do you 
want? You cannot go out now. Do you wish 
to expose yourself unnecessarily, when your 
father’s people may be here at any moment to 
fetch 5'ou? ” 

“ Whatever happens, I cannot leave m}^ ha-^k 
in the lurch,” cried Wally; and she was out of 
the door in one bound. The priest followed 
her, shaking his head. 

“ The vulture is tame,” cried she to the peo- 
ple. “Let it go: it belongs to me I ” 

“ But such a bird cannot be permitted to fly 
about,” murmured they all. 

“Has it ever stolen one of your children, or 
one of 3"Our sheep? ” said Wally defiantly. 

“No!” 

“Well, then, leave me alone with my bird ! ” 
said Wally, standing there so proudly and im- 
periousl}^, that the people were all filled with 
amazement. “ Wally, Wally,” warned the 
priest softly, “ think of the hard wood ! ” 

“ I am thinking of it now, sir,” and, beckon- 
ing to the vulture with her hand, “ Come along, 
Hansel!” The bird flew down from the roof; 
and the crowd became alarmed, and retreated. 
Taking it on her shoulder, she walked up to the 
priest. “God be with your honor!” said she 
gently. “ I thank you for all.” 

“ Will you not come in, and finish your break- 
fast,” asked he. 

“No, I cannot leave the bii’d alone again; 
and, as I have to go, why should I wait?” 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 


99 


“ God and all the saints be with you ! ’’ said 
the priest sadly ; while old Marianne stuffed her 
breakfast secretly in the pocket of her plaited 
skirt. 

Her foot lingered on the threshold which she 
now loved ; and then she silently departed through 
the crowd, who stared after her with wonder. 

“Who is that?” 

“She is a witch!” she heard them whisper 
behind her. 

“ She is a stranger whom I have confessed,” 
explained the priest. 


100 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE KLOTZES OF ROFEN. 

AY after day Wally wandered about the 
neighboring villages, seeking employ- 
ment ; but no one would receive her with 
the vulture, and she could not abandon 
the bird. Even if she had let it go, it would 
always have flown after her ; and the idea of killing 
it never entered her brain, no matter what became 
of her. She was now the Geier- Wally in all 
truth ; for her fate was bound up in that of the 
vulture, and it clung to her like a human being. 
Luckard’s old cousin would willingly have taken 
her in when she passed by ; but she would there 
have been too near home : she would have been 
quite under her father’s control. She must go 
farther, as far as her feet would carry her. The 
weather grew more and more trying ; the snow 
began to fall ; and the nights which Wally spent 
under any hay-rick she came across were terribly 
cold. 

Her clothes became old and soiled. She began 
to look like a beggar or a vagrant, and was 
hardly treated when she knocked at a door with 
her companion. She presented such a weird 
appearance, that no good-natured peasant- women 
would an}^ longer give her work in the house, for 
an hour or two, and then share their meal with 




OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 101 


her. Out of compassion, she would receive a bit 
of bread at their doors. And Wally, the proud 
Stromminger Wally, would sit down on the step, 
and eat it. For she did not wish to die. Life, 
in spite of its anxieties, worries, and hardships, 
was still beautiful in her mind, as long as she 
hoped that Joseph would still love her. For 
this hope, she could endure all, — hunger, cold, 
and disgrace. But her bod}^, which had always 
been so strong, began to fail under the constant 
strain of misery and suspense. Her expression 
grew sad ; her feet refused to carry her ; and, 
when she laid herself down to rest, her thoughts 
became confused, and she lay in a sort of fever- 
ish sleep. With intense fear, she overcame this 
feeling of illness. Should she not even be spared 
that ? If she should be found unconscious in a 
hay-rick, she would be carried to her father, and 
be thus once more in his power. She had wan- 
dered through the Gurgler Valley, and, finding 
nothing there, had climbed the wearisome path- 
way over to the Oetz Valley. It had led to 
Vent, which lay in the peaceful neighborhood of 
her second father Murzoll : it was like home. 

But things were worse in that place. The 
rougher the region, the rougher the people. And, 
when Wally reached there, the news of her of- 
fence had preceded her, and she was met every- 
where with disdain and fear. She did not refer 
to the priest of Heiligkreuz, as he had forbidden 
it ; and she appreciated his motives in so doing. 
For that reason, she appealed to no other priest, 
as she knew that they could not receive her. 


102 


GEIER-WALLY; 


The last door in Vent was closed behind her. 
Nothing la}^ before her but the heaven-reaching 
ledge of Plattey Rogel, the Wildspitz, and the 
distant hills of Hochvernagt, which shut out the 
valley, and over which there was no road. The 
world seemed here to come to an end, like a lane 
without any thoroughfare; and she had reached the 
end of this lane. She stood there, and gazed at 
the steep banks on every side. It was a cloudy 
morning ; and the snow, which had fallen heavily 
during the night, made the whole valley appear 
like a huge vault of snow. Every trace of a 
path had been concealed. Seating herself, she 
thought, “ If I fall asleep here, and freeze, it 
will be an easy death.” But it was not cold 
enough for that. The snow melted beneath her ; 
and she was soon dripping with wet. She sprang 
up, and ascended the height behind Vent, lead- 
ing to the Hochjoch road. She could survey the 
whole country from this spot. She now per- 
ceived a sort of furrow in the snow, which ran 
along the Thalleitspitz, behind the village, into 
the heart of the distant hills. 

That might be a footpath ; but where would 
it lead to ? She climbed higher to look a little 
farther ; and a bandage seemed to fall from her 
eyes. That was the road from Vent to the 
Rofen farm, — Rofen, the highest inhabited place 
in all the Tyrol, the last in the Oetz Valley, 
where eagles as well as men found their home. 
Only two families dwelt there, by the name of 
Klotze and Gestrein. 

Rofen, — still, concealed Rofen, at the foot of 


OEy A TALE OF THE TYBOL. 103 


the terrible Vernagt glacier, on the edge of the 
glacier sea, where no footstep wandered year in 
or year out, and which was surrounded by super- 
stition with a veil of mystery. Wall}^ belonged 
there. It was the last place where she might 
receive assistance, or at least die peacefully, like 
the animals of the desert. She would go to the 
Klotzes of Rofen. They were the most celebrat- 
ed guides in the Tyrol. They were as much at 
home on the mountains as the mountain-fairies. 
They would understand that Wally, sooner than 
allow herself to be robbed of the atmosphere of 
freedom, would set fire to a house, or die ; and 
they could protect Wally against the whole world, 
for they had the “right of refuge.” Dulie Fred- 
erick had awarded it to them out of gratitude. He 
had once, in an attack on Rofen, found shelter 
there from the pursuit of his enemies. Joseph 
II. had, it is true, deprived them of their rights, 
at the end of the last century ; but the peasants 
clung to the tradition, and the inhabitants of the 
Oetz Valle}^ respected the right willingly. Who- 
ever found shelter in Rofen was safe from every 
one ; for the Rofener inhabitants, the Klotzes and 
Gestreins, never took any one in unless they de- 
served it, and were as much respected as their 
ancestors. Reception in their house was equiva- 
lent to the protection of the Church. 

Wally lifted her hands to heaven in earnest 
thankfulness that God should have pointed out 
this road to her ; and, staggering and giddy, she 
strove to reach the last place which she still had 
strength for, — first down the path from Vent, 
and then up the steep incline. 


104 


GEIEE-WALLY; 


She ascended the pathway painfully for an 
hour, which seemed as though it would never end. 
The Rofener farms lay before her, asleep in the 
snow. She had only seen them from the crest of 
Murzoll ; and from there they appeared as small 
as eagles^ nests hanging on the rocks. She 
heard the beatings of her heart ; and her knees 
shook under her. If she should be turned away 
here ! A fresh snowdrift blew silently down, and 
wrapped all about her in a moving white shroud. 
It drifted and glittered before Wally, and the 
white veil cooled her brow ; but it melted on her 
fevered forehead, and the water ran over her face 
and hair ; but she shook off the frost. She finally 
reached the door of Nicodemus Klotz’s house, 
and seized the knocker ; but, as she touched it, a 
strange light came over her eyes, and, with a dull 
sound, she fell against the door, and slipped down 
to the ground. 

The white snowfiakes fell on and on in the 
narrow valley, and covered and shrouded it entire- 
ly. It heaped itself before the well closed door 
of Nicodemus Klotz, and made a peaceable white 
mound on the spot where the insensible bodj^ lay. 

Nicodemus Klotz sat on the bench by the 
warm stove, smoking his pipe, and gazing com- 
fortably at the snow, whirling before the window. 
The quarters of the hour passed quietly by, while 
his youngest brother, Leander, a handsome hunter, 
read a weekly journal printed on very poor paper. 
“It is coming down again,” said Nicodemus, 
smoking. 

“ Yes,” said Leander, and looked up at the 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 105 


snow, drifting and whirling before the little win- 
dow. Suddenly, in the midst of the tempest, a 
dark wing knocked against the window, and 
fluttered by on to the roof. 

“ That was something,” said Leander, and 
stood up. “ What can it have been? ” muttered 
the other. “ You cannot go out of the door in 
such a tempest.” 

“Oh! why?” said Leander, taking his gun 
down from the wall. The hunter was roused in 
him by every flutter of a bird flying past. He 
must discover what it was. He opened the door 
carefully, so as not to frighten the bird. A heap 
of snow fell inside, and displayed the mound 
which had formed itself on the threshold. He 
could not get out : he would have to fetch a spade 
to make a pathway for himself. Putting the gun 
angrily away, he began to shovel away the snow. 

“Lord, what is this!” cried he suddenly. 
“ Nicodem, come quickly, and help! There is 
something under the snow ! ’ ’ 

The brother hastened up to him. The mound 
was now digged away ; and an arm, a beautifully 
rounded arm, appeared. 

They now drew forth a lifeless body. 

“Good God, a girl; and w'hat a beauty!” 
whispered Leander, as the lovely head and the 
snow-white breast made their appearance. 

“How can she have wandered here?” said 
Nicodemus, shaking his head ; and he lifted the 
heavy body out of the snow with much diflSculty. 

“ Is she dead?” asked Leander, and touched 
her ; while his eye rested on the pale face with a 
mixture of fear and satisfaction. 


106 


GEIER-WALLY; 


“ Let us rub her at once/' ordered Nicodemus, 
“ and lift her into the room." 

And they lifted the powerful body, and carried 
her into tho house, where they laid her on 
Nicodemus’ bed. “ She has lain out there for 
a good half-hour. It is as long ago as that 
when I thought I heard a dull knock at the door ; 
but I imagined it to be snow falling from the 
roof.” 

Leander fetched a bowlful of snow, and wished 
earnestly to assist to undress the girl. 

“ Not here,” said the older and more thought- 
ful man. “ This will not do : you are too young 
a man. The girl would be ashamed if she knew 
it. Go to Gestrein’s, and bring over Marianne 
or Katherine. Go ! ” 

Leander could not take his eyes off the lifeless 
body. “Such a lovely girl!” murmured he 
pityingly as he went out. 

Carefully did the experienced man undress the 
girl, and rubbed her with snow, until her skin 
began to glow, and her blood circulate again. 
He then dried her gently, covered her well over, 
and poured a few drops of some essence of herbs 
down her throat. She finally recovered herself, 
and looked several times about the room. But 
her glance was glazed and expressionless ; and, 
after muttering a few incomprehensible words, 
she once more closed her eyes. 

“ She is ill,” said Nicodemus to Leander, who 
had just come in again ; and a hearty peasant- 
woman followed him, shaking off the snow as 
she entered. 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 107 


“Marianne,’’ said Nicodemus (she was his 
married sister), “you must help now. Leander 
and I, two men, can do nothing for the girl. 
Leander is already fascinated by her.” 

He cast a dissatisfied look at the young fellow, 
v/ho was again standing at the head of the bed, 
devouring the maiden with his eyes. As though 
caught, he blushingly turned aside. 

Marianne approached the bed ; and her first 
question naturally was, “ Who can she be? ” 

“God knows! Some vagrant,” said Nico- 
demus. 

“ I like that,” muttered Leander. “ One can 
see very well that she is not a vagrant.” 

“Yes, yes,” remarked Marianne; “because 
she is beautiful, and attracts you! You know 
man}" have a lovely face and an ugly soul : that 
has nothing to do with it. A respectable maiden 
would not be wandering about the country alone, 
at this season of the year, until she could no 
longer exist in the snow. There must be a screw 
loose somewhere ; and God knows what sort of 
a girl we are taking into the house.” 

“ Well, that is of no consequence now,” said 
Nicodemus good-naturedly. “We cannot drive 
this person out into the snow and cold, ill as she 
is, whoever she may be.” 

“ I do not object,” said the w^oman. “ I will 
come over, and take care of her for you ; but you 
may as well know that I will not receive her under 
my roof.” 

“That is not necessary: we can keep her 
here,” said Leander, annoyed. And, as Wally 


108 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


again muttered something to herself, he bent over 
her tenderly, and asked, “ What is it? What do 
you wish? 

The sister and brother exchanged glances. 
“Now,” said Nicodemus, “I will tell you what 
it is ! You will please to leave the creature 
alone until we know who this person is. The 
mason has made a hole there : you will please go 
through it, and not return, unless you wish me 
to put the girl out, as ill as she is. Do you 
understand ? 

“Well, I suppose one may look at a girl,” 
murmured Leander. “ I do not know what you 
mean.” 

“ Go out now. As long as I am master in 
this house, and your guardian, I will permit no 
discussion on this subject.” With these words 
Nicodemus shoved him out of the room with his 
arm, and remained with his sister by the side of 
the sick girl. 

Wally lay insensible, and in a fever. Her 
throat was swollen, and her limbs stiff and pain- 
ful. The brother and sister soon realized that 
the stranger was suffering from a terrible cold. 
She was completely exhausted ; and they nursed 
her as well as they knew how. 

Meanwhile Leander wandered restlessly and 
lazily about the house. He was always there, 
when the door of the sick-room opened, to learn 
how the girl was progressing. He was very mis- 
erable. He would gladly have watched over the 
beautiful maiden. Towards evening the storm 
ceased, and he took up his gun and went out. 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 109 


He soon returned, however, and, calling Nicode- 
mus out of the sick-room, said excitedly, ‘ ‘ There 
is a vulture, a magnificent bird, sitting on the 
roof. It looks down at me as quietly and trust- 
ingly as though it belonged here.’’ 

“ Ah ! ” said Nicodemus : “ that is strange.” 

“ Just come out and look at it,” said Leander, 
dragging his brother out of the house. “ There, 
there it is ! it has not budged. What a splendid 
fellow ! It is enough to rouse the patience of a 
saint, not to be able to shoot at it ! ” 

“ Why do you not aim at it?” said Nicode- 
mus. 

“You would not have me fire, would you, with 
that sick giil lying inside?” said Leander, stamp- 
ing his foot. 

“Drive him away,” suggested his brother; 
“ and do you follow him, and shoot at him far 
enough off, so that we cannot hear you.” 

“Gsch, gsch!” and Leander threw balls of 
snow at the bird to frighten it. The hawk ruffled 
its feathers, and finally rose in the air. It did not 
fly away, however : it flapped its wings for a few 
seconds, and then descended quietly on the roof 
again. 

“That is most peculiar: it will not move. I 
believe it is quite tame.” 

The}^ tried once or twice more to make it change 
its position, but without any better success. 

“ I believe the bird is bewitched,” said 
Leander, and made the sign of the cross before 
the hawk. It did not seem to be disturbed by it. 
After all, it could have no communication with 
the Devil. 


110 


GEIEB -WALLY; 


“I fancy it must be wounded, and unable tc 
fly. At all events, it will do no more harm,” 
said Nicodemus. “ Leave it alone until it falls 
down of itself, unless you wish to terrify that 
poor girl with your noise.” 

“ Yes, I believe it is almost dead now ; and I 
can easily catch it with my hands.” 

He brought a ladder, laid it against the house, 
and climbed up carefully. The bird allowed him 
to approach. Leander drew his handkerchief out 
of his pocket, and attempted to throw it over the 
hawk’s head ; whereupon, it began to snap fierce- 
ly at him ; and he was obliged to beat a sudden 
retreat. 

Nicodemus laughed. “Well, it has shown 
3"Ou how to catch a vulture in your hands. I 
could have told you as much myself.” 

“I don’t know what kind of a bird it is,” 
muttered Leander, shaking his head. “Just you 
wait,” said he warningly. “ If ever I catch you 
somewhere else ! ” 

“ You can drive it off to-morrow, if it remains 
there during the night : you may be quite sure, 
that, if it can fly again, it will never return 
here.” 

Night closed in upon them ; and Marianne 
came out to say that she must now go home, and 
prepare her husband’s supper. 

The brothers went into the house ; and Nico- 
demus also brought out of the storeroom bread 
and cheese for their own meal. 

While he was absent, Leander noiselessly opened 
the door leading from the sitting-room to Nico- 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. HJ 

demus’ bedroom, and peeped through the opening 
at Wally. She was now sound asleep in Nico- 
demus’ comfortable bed. She had not lain in 
such a bed for manj^ a long night ; and one could 
see, even in her sleep, how soft she found it, as 
she nestled up into the pillows. ‘ ‘ God bless you, 
you poor thing ! God bless you ! ’’ whispered Le- 
ander, closing the door hastily, as he heard Nico- 
demus returning. When he brought back their 
food, Leander was once more sitting unconcern- 
edly on the bench by the stove. “ It is all ver}^ 
well to-night, as Benedict is away ; for I can 
sleep in his bed in your room. But to-morrow, 
when he returns, we will have to sleep three of 
us in two beds.” 

“ Oh! I need no bed,” said Leander eagerly. 
“ For her sake, I would as soon sleep on this 
bench, or in the hayloft. If any of us must suf- 
fer on her account, it shall be no one but me.” 

“ Well, if it pleases you, you are very welcome 
to it. But it shall be in the hayloft, and not here. 
This is too close to my room: do you under- 
stand?” 

“Yes, yes! I see,” said Leander, taking a 
bite out of his cheese, as if it were a sour apple. 
The bedroom of the two younger members of the 
Klotz family was directly opposite Nicodemus* ; 
and there he slept. Once or twice during the 
night he arose, and went to Wally’s door to lis- 
ten. She was very delii’ious, and spoke a great 
deal ; and once Nicodemus heard her plainly say 
something about a vulture. 

“Oh!” thought he, “she has probably also 


112 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


seen the bird as she came up here ; and her fear 
of it is pursuing her in her dreams.’’ 

Before breakfast the next morning, Leander 
went out after it. 

He did not return until about mid-day. “Well, 
how is she? ” said he as he came in. 

“ Always the same. She does not recover her 
consciousness. She is constantly afraid of some 
one’s pursuing her.” 

Leander rubbed his head. “ Then I cannot 
shoot. Just think : that vulture is still on our 
roof!” 

“Not really? ” 

“ Yes. When I went out this morning, it had 
disappeared : so I thought it must have flown 
away, and I went after it for three hours. When 
I returned, I found the bird sitting quietly on the 
roof again.” 

“ Well, really, if one were superstitious, one 
might feel alarmed.” 

“ One might almost think that the fairies, who 
are always trying to play some trick on me, had 
something to do with it.” 

“ God bless you ! ” said some one in a deep, 
gruff voice ; and Benedict, the second brother, 
who had been absent, came in. 

“ Oh, God bless you I Are you home again? ” 
said his brothers. “What news do you bring? 
What did you do? ” 

“Not much. They sent me from Peter to Paul 
at the court of justice, and tried to satisfy me 
with partial promises. Three generations of men 
and beasts in the Oetz Valley can break their 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYBOL. Hg 

necks and legs on the road, before we will even 
get the boundary path.’’ 

The speaker threw his knapsack crossly on the 
ground, and sat down on the seat by the oven. 
‘ ‘ Shall we soon have something to eat ? ’ ’ 

“ Immediately,” said Nicodemus, who acted 
as cook, and brought in the soup. 

He also carried a small bowl of milk into the 
sick-room. Leander followed him longingly with 
his eyes. 

Benedict was hungry, and began his meal 
without noticing what his brother was about. 

Nicodemus soon returned, and began, like all 
peasants, to eat without speaking, for fear of 
being out of time. He helped to each an equal 
proportion of soup. 

I^en they had finished it, Benedict stretched 
himself out comfortably on the bench, and lighted 
his pipe, fatigued by his wanderings. 

‘‘T^at is going on in the world? Tell us 
something,” said Leander, knowing his brother’s 
laziness. 

He already had his pipe in his mouth, and 
yawned, “ I know nbthing.” After a pause he 
said, however, “ You know the daughter of the 
rich Stromminger of Sonneplatten. You know 
who I mean, — Geier-Wally. She set fire to her 
father’s property, and is now running about the 
country, begging.” 

“ Why, what happened? ” said both brothers, 
astonished. 

“That girl must be really wicked,” contin- 
ued Benedict. “ Her father sent her up on the 
8 


114 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


Hochjoch once, as she would not behave herself ; 
and now, when she comes down, the first thing 
she does is to half kill Gellner, and then set fire 
to her father’s house.” 

“Good God!” 

“ Of course she ran away afterward, and wan- 
dered about the neighborhood. She was in Vent 
yesterday, and begged for work at every door. 
But who would have such a girl in the house ? 
She drags a great vulture after her (she caught it 
once) ; and it must be received, as well as her- 
self. Of course, every one refuses.” 

Nicodemus glanced at Leander, who blushed 
up to the roots of his hair. 

“Well, I don’t thank you!” said Nicodemus. 
“Now I know who is lying in there! That 
hawk that will not leave the roof — and she raved 
about a hawk all last night. This is no joke. 
Geier-Wally is in this house ! ” 

Benedict sprang up. “ What ! ” 

“ Don’t yell so,” said Leander. “ Do you want 
that poor sick girl to hear all this ? ” 

Nicodemus now explained that she had been 
found half dead in the snow, by Leander. The}^ 
could do no less than take her in until she was once 
more able to walk. But Benedict was a rough 
man, and imagined that her illness was only 
feigned, and his brothers were very weak to have 
been so taken in. He would soon settle her. 
“We can offer no refuge to incendiaries,” cried 
he ; and his sharp eyes sparkled angrily under- 
neath his heavy eyebrows. 

“ If you had seen the girl, you would have 


OE, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 115 


received her too,” said Leander. “ One v^ould 
have to be quite heartless to drive away a poor 
creature in such stormy weather.” 

“ Indeed 1 and, according to you, we must then 
offer a refuge to all the thieves and murderers in 
the country ; so that the Rofener farm might be 
called a shelter for all such witches. That would 
be food for all the courts of justice in the country. 
If you allow youfself to be taken in by such a girl, 
I must, at all events, keep order in the Rofener 
farm.” 

He approached the door. Nicodemus placed 
himself before it, and said quietly, but firmly, 
“ Benedict, I am the oldest, and just as much 
master here as you are, and know as well as you 
what is the responsibility of our position. I give 
you my word that I will keep that girl in this 
house only as long as I think it my duty as a 
man and a Christian. But now she is ill, and I 
will not allow her to be abused. As long as I am 
in Rofen, no harm shall be done to any one under 
this roof.” 

Leander interrupted him, saying with flashing- 
eyes, “Just you let him go in. When he has 
once seen her, he will never send her away 1 ” 

“You are right, you rascal ! ” said Nicodemus 
with a smile, opening the door gently. 

Benedict entered hastilj^ and noisily. Leander 
was also able to slip through the door with them ; 
and Nicodemus was well pleased that he should 
help him to watch Benedict, and to prevent his 
being rough. Marianne sat by the bed, making 
new clothes for the sick girl, as her own were 


116 


GEIER-WALLY; 


so ragged, that she never could have put them 
on again when she got up. She signed to Bene- 
dict, when he came in, to be quiet. But he had 
no sooner laid eyes on the girl than he walked 
more gently, and advanced slowly to the bedside. 
The girl slept soundly. 

She lay on her back ; and her lovely arm was 
thrown over her head. Her thick, dark hair fell 
loosely on her snow-white breast, which had 
never been touched by the rays of the sun under 
her coarse peasant-bodice, and now appeared 
under the white linen. Her mouth was half open, 
as though in a smile ; and two rows of shining 
white teeth glistened between her full lips. An 
expression of purity and pride, which said more 
than words, lay on her forehead. 

Benedict was silent, perfectly still. He gazed 
in amazement at the fascinating picture, which 
was, nevertheless, so pure. 

His sunburnt countenance flushed more and 
more, like Leander’s, who was blushing deeply. 
Pressing his teeth together, he turned away. 
“ She is really ill,’’ said he, as much as to say, 
“ That cannot be helped ; ” and he left the room 
on tiptoe. 


Oi2, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 117 


CHAPTER IX. 


IN THE WILDERNESS. 



IHE breezes of spring were once more 
wafted over the earth. The melting 
snow flowed down the mountains in 
roaring torrents. The flrst Alpine plants 
turned their faces shyly to the sun, as if doubt- 
ing his sincerity, and fearing to venture out any 
farther. Here and there were a few plains of 
snow still. The birds, flapping their wings in the 
clumps of fir-trees and evergreens, took counsel 
together, and joined with their twittering voices 
in the universal song of joy. 

The avalanches rolled down into the valleys 
from the distant hills ; and carried away by these 
terrible moving masses were trees and plants, 
rocks and stones. 

In the valleys and on the hills, all was in com- 
motion. The thundering sounds were mingled 
with the rustling of the trees; and men, ever 
daring, began to feel the hills with alpenstocks, 
where the melting snow allowed them to place 
their feet. 

Rofen alone was wrapped in shadows, and 
covered with a sheet of snow, like a sluggard in 
its narrow, heaven-reaching mountain-fortress. 
Leander stood before the door of the Rofener 
farm-house, feeding Hansel with a large mouse. 


118 


GEIEll-WALLY; 


which he had just caught for him. Hansel had 
become Leander’s pet the moment he knew it to 
belong to Wally ; and the bird was well cared for 
by the Rofeners. 

Benedict was just coming home with his alpen- 
stock. He had been trying the road to Murzoll, 
and had several times been in danger of death. 
His glance was unsteady, his whole being excited 
and gloomy. 

“Well?’^ said Leander anxiously: “how is 
it?” 

“ The road is clear enough for a case of 
immediate necessity. If I conduct her, she may 
risk it.” 

“ O Benedict ! don’t do it. Do not let her go 
up there ! I beseech you not to.” 

“Whatever she decides. She chooses that,” 
said Benedict gloomily. 

“ Tell her that the road is not clear, and she 
will give it up of her own accord.” 

“ What is the use of prevaricating? She may 
remain here for any length of time, but she will 
never change her mind ; and she has told you 
often enough that you need have no hope. Such 
a boy would never suit a girl like Wally ! You 
must now be satisfied.” He went into the house. 

Tears of grief and anger rose in Leander’s 
eyes. Wally came out of the stable with her 
pitchfork in her hand to meet Benedict. 

“Wally,” said he, “if you insist upon it, I 
will take you up. I have discovered the road ; 
but it is still dangerous.” 

“ Thank you, Benedict ! ” said Wally. “ We 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYBOL. HQ 


will start to-morrow.** She hung up her pitch- 
fork, and went into the kitchen. Benedict 
stamped his feet, and placed his alpenstock in 
the corner. He reflected for a few moments ; but 
he could stand it no longer : he followed her. 

Wally had just tied up her skirt, and was pre- 
paring to scrub the kitchen. 

Wally, leave that alone. I wish to speak to 
you.** 

“I can*t, Benedict, look! I must clean the 
kitchen. The house must all be put in order if 
I am to leave to-morrow. I wish to leave no 
dirt behind me.** 

“ You have worked more since you have been 
with us than was due from you. Now, do leave 
it alone. The house is clean enough ; and, when 
you are gone, it will make no difierence.** He 
was chewing a bit of wood. Wally saw what a 
terrible state of excitement he was in. She ceased 
her work, and listened to him. 

“Wally,** said he, “think again. Will you 
not have one of us.? You know you need not be 
so proud. A great deal of love is required for 
any one to accept you, you are so looked down 
upon.** 

Wally nodded her head in acquiescence. 

“ Now, you know we Kofeners are such, that 
an}^ girl would willingly accept us. You can 
choose between two of us brothers, and you 
refuse such a chance I Wally, you may repent 
later on.** 

‘ ‘ Benedict, 3^ou are very good ; and I love you 
and Leander as well as I can love any one ; but 


120 


GEIER-WALLY; 


I cannot marry you. And I can marry no one 
whom I would not love as a husband. And I 
must tell you that I once saw a man whom I am 
unable to forget. Until I get him out of my 
mind, I can accept no other.’" 

Benedict grew pale. 

“ You know I tell you this to comfort you, 
and that you may be able to put me out of your 
thoughts. Believe me, Benedict, I appreciate 
what you have all done for me. You saved me 
from death; you protected me when my father 
tried to use his power to fetch me home ; and it 
was very kind of you to have pleaded my cause, 
and upheld your right of refuge. I should be a 
happy girl if I could love you, and forget the 
other. I am grateful to you, and would give my 
life for you, if that could do you any good. But 
tell me, what would you give for a wife who loved 
another? That would be but a poor reward 
for a man like you.” 

“Yes,” said Benedict hoarsely, wiping his 
forehead. 

“Now, you see, this cannot go on: I must 
leave you.” 

“ Yes,” said he once more, and left the kitchen. 

Wally looked after him as he walked away, 
the good proud man, who had offered her all, as 
he said in his own blunt way, that would have 
made any other girl happy. 

She could not understand that she should not 
love this man, who had done so much for her, 
more than the stranger who did not even think 
of her. But so it was. 


ORy A TALE OF THE TYROL. 121 

No one could be compared to Joseph in 
strength and power ; and she always saw him 
before her, as he threw the bloody bear-skin upon 
the ground, and told how he had fought with the 
beast. She saw him surrounded by all, admired 
as the only one, the powerful and handsome 
man. And he had overcome her father, whom 
she had always regarded as unapproachable. 
How kindly he had spoken to him, in spite of her 
father’s enmity ! No, no one could be compared 
to Joseph. 

She returned to her work. 

“ If only Joseph knew all that I am giving up 
for his sake ! ” thought she, and looked out of 
the window at Benedict, talking excitedl}^ to 
Leander. Leander was weeping. 

Old Stromminger had at first stormed, and 
cursed his rebellious child. Even the good chap- 
lain of Heiligkreuz could not succeed in appeas- 
ing his wrath. When the news that Wally had 
concealed herself in Rofen reached him, he sent 
some men to fetch her. But the Klotzes of Ro- 
fen did not abandon any one on their own prop- 
erty so easily, and cavalierly upheld the ancient 
right of the Rofener farm. 

When Wally, however, noticed that the broth- 
ers were much in love with her, she confided in 
the thoughtful Nicodemus, who soon saw what 
was to be done. He went to Stromminger, and 
cleverly persuaded him to give up all idea of 
shutting Wally up, and to rest satisfied in ex- 
iling her from home forever. She should once 
more watch the cattle iu summer on the Mur- 


122 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


zoll, “ as that was the only use he could make of 
her ; ” and in winter she might find a place, and 
work. But she was not to come back into her 
own country. 

When Nicodemus returned with this message, 
she at once wished to ascend the mountain, and 
there await her flocks. Nicodemus’ persuasive 
powers alone induced her to remain with them 
until Benedict had explored the road. 

The hour finally arrived when Wally had to 
flee to the mountains, preceding the spring- 
breezes into the wilderness. It was a painful 
leave-taking; for she loved the brothers and 
Marianne. Those kind people had done so much 
for her. 

Benedict would allow no one but himself to 
accompany her. 

“You were intrusted to our care: we will, at 
all events, give you up in safety. Unfortunately, 
we cannot prevent any thing happening to 3"Ou 
afterwards.” 

It was a terrible path which they were com- 
pelled to take in the midst of the convulsion 
caused by the approaching spring ; and Benedict, 
by far the most daring and safest guide, said 
that he had never before made so perilous an 
ascent. They spoke but little; for they were 
continually in danger of losing their life, and 
dared not look to the right or to the left. It was 
very trjdng. Finally, after struggling for half a 
day with ice, snow, and precipices, they reached 
the top of the hill. 

The old hut was still there, a trifle more dilapi- 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 123 


dated than it had been formerly ; and heaps of 
snow lay on the roof, and roundabout them. 

“ Do you intend to live there, there ! — sooner 
than lead a peaceful life in our midst as the wife 
of one of the Rofener peasants, and become a 
respected woman? ” 

“I cannot help it, Benedict,” said Wally, 
gazing sadly at the wretched hut, covered with 
snow. “I believe the spirits of the mountain 
have bewitched me, so that I am compelled to 
return to them, and can never again feel at home 
in the valley.” 

“One could almost believe it. Something 
must be the matter with you. You are not at all 
like other girls ; and one has to love and care for 
you quite differently. And yet you seem not to 
belong to us, and act as if you were under the 
influence of some evil spirit.” 

Throwing the pack of food on the ground, 
which he had carried for Wally, he began to clear 
the snow away from before the hut to make an 
entrance. 

“ Benedict,” said Wally softly, as though she 
might be overheard, “ do j^ou believe in the 
mountain-fairies ? ” 

Benedict looked thoughtfully before him, and 
shrugged his shoulders. “What can one say 
about them ? I have never seen one ; but some 
people swear by them.” 

“ I never believed in them ; but, when I came 
up here last year, I had a dream, which was so 
real, that one could have imagined it not to be a 
dream ; and since then, whenever any thing hap- 
pens to me, I think of the fairies.” 


124 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


“ What kind of a dream was it? 

“ You know the one I love is also a chamois- 
hunter; and it was on his account that my 
father sent me up here last year. And, during 
the first hour I spent here, I dreamed that the 
fairies and Murzoll threatened to throw me into 
the abyss, if I did not give up that man.’’ 

She then told Benedict her whole dream. 

Shaking his head, he grew very sad. “Wally, 
I should be afraid, if I were you.” 

Wally threw back her head. “ Why, you 
shoot chamois, too, in spite of the fairies. One 
must not allow one’s self to be alarmed. Since 
then I have crossed many ravines. I have felt 
them tugging at me ; but I resisted, and have 
conquered. As long as I have these two arms, 
I need have no fear,” said she, stretching out 
her powerful, sunburnt arms. 

_ Benedict was not content. In his lonely wan- 
derings over the Similaun and Wildspitz gla- 
ciers, he had acquired a habit of meditating, and 
ruminated over things more than most people. 
“ Take care, Wally ! He who attempts too much 
readily falls ; and they will not stand it up there, 
and will throw you over.” 

She was silent. 

“ It is too early for you to go up there,” said 
he again. “No one could endm’e it.” 

“Oh! last autumn when I was here, it was 
far worse,” said Wally. 

They went into the hut. 

“ If you will not take good advice, well, you 
must bear the consequences. But if he for whom 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 125 


jou are enduring all this does not reward you 
some day, he will deserve to have his neck wrung.” 

“If he knew it, he would probably reward 
me,” said Wally, blushing. 

“Does he not know it?” said Benedict, as- 
tonished. 

“ No : he hardly knows me.” 

“ Well, God forgive you for giving your heart 
to a stranger, and for casting off those who love 
and care for you. Do you know that cannot be 
love? It must be obstinacy.” 

Wally was silent. Benedict did not open his 
lips again. He did what old Klettenmaier had 
done the year before. He arranged the hut for 
Wally as well as he could, and carried wood into 
the shed. He then extended his hand in farewell. 
“God bless you, up here! and, if I dared say 
any thing more to you, it would be this : Watch 
and pray, that you do not yield to evil influ- 
ences.” 

Wally’s heart shrunk within her as his eye 
rested on her sorrowfully. She really seemed to 
feel the evil spirits about her, and, almost uncon- 
sciously, she clung to the hand of the protector 
who had watched over her so faithfully, and 
accompanied him on his way, as though she 
feared to be left alone. 

“Turn back now. The road is very bad. 
Thank you for coming,” said Benedict, parting 
from her. 

“Farewell, and may you reach home safely,” 
cried Wally after him. 

He did not look back. She returned to the 


126 


GEIER-WALLY; 


hut, and was once more alone with her hawk and 
the fairies. But they seemed to be conciliated. 
Murzoll smiled pleasantly, in the rays of the 
spring sun, at his returning child. And Wally 
no longer felt a stranger in the mighty surround- 
ings. Each wrinkle in Murzoll’ s forehead was 
familiar to her. She now knew his smiles and 
his ragings. She was no longer terrified by the 
clouds covering his brow, and when, in anger, he 
cast down avalanches into the depths below. 

She nestled into his rugged bosom ; and his 
stormy breath lifted the weight, which she had 
once more brought with her from below, off her 
heart. 

A healing power lay in the storm : it cooled 
her blood, and transported her soul far above 
all the rocks and thorns in which she was im- 
prisoned. When a child hurts itself, and weeps, 
we whisper comforting words, and blow on the 
wounded spot, so that it once more smiles at us. 
Even so did Father Murzoll blow awa}^ the 
heavy grief that oppressed his child ; and, with 
tearful eyes and lightened heart, she gazed out 
into the wide world, enduring and hoping. 

Weeks and months elapsed. The July sun 
was already at its height, and the mountain was 
entirely open. The snow had melted ever3^here, 
even on the borders of the eternal snows, where 
Wally dwelt. From time to time, one of the 
Rofener brothers would come up to see if she had 
changed her mind. But this happened rarety; 
and Wally’s solitude was never disturbed for any 
length of time. 


OE, A TALE OF THE TYEOL. 127 

The sun shone one day, with such strength, that 
Wally felt as if she were walking on red-hot nee- 
dles. When the sun burns, it sews the clouds 
together ; and towards noon it was wrapped in a 
dense mist, and a leaden atmosphere covered the 
earth. A strange sense of restlessness came ovei 
the little flock. Every now and then a bright 
flash would appear in the chaos of air, as though 
some one had winked his eyes in sleep ; and a 
gigantic black shroud completely enveloped the 
Murzoll peak. Here and there the clouds sev- 
ered themselves, and left a spot in the distance 
open to the view. But fresh veils speedily cov- 
ered the clear openings ; and soon there seemed 
to be no space between heaven and earth. 

Wally knew well what this foretold. She had 
ah’eady experienced many tempests up here. 
She called her flock together under a ledge of a 
rock, of which she had, in course of time, made 
a harbor of refuge. But a young goat had wan- 
dered some distance off ; and Wally had to search 
for it. No storm had ever come up with such 
rapidity. It already thundered about the moun- 
tain. The winds swept up with a rush ; and a 
few hailstones began to fall. It was now a 
question of minutes ; and the animal could no- 
where be seen. Wally extinguished her fire, and 
stepped out into the battle of the elements, like 
an heroic queen before her army of rebellious 
subjects. 

Without knowing or desiring it, she really 
looked queenlike. She had placed a small cop- 
per milk-pan, like a helmet, on her head, as a 


128 


GEIER -WALLY; 


protection against the hail ; and a rough horse- 
rug hung across her shoulders like a cloak. 

With her crook with its iron spike, instead of 
a lance, in her hand, she encountered the storm, 
and struggled with it, until she reached a sharp 
edge of the rock, from which she could look 
after the lost animal. In the fog, however, she 
could discern nothing. Wally climbed higher 
and higher, until she reached the road leading 
from the Hochjoch into the Schnalzer Valley. 
Far below, in a precipice, on the rock, hung 
the kid, trembling with fear, and drawing itself 
together under the shower of heavy hailstones. 
She pitied the poor animal, and must rescue it. 

The hail fell more and more rapidly ; and the 
wind and rain beat in her face. It came on 
closer and closer, like the raging of a deluge ; 
but it did not alarm her. The cry of the terri- 
fied animal sounded above the storm ; and, with- 
out thinking, she descended into the misty deep. 
With great difficulty she went down the danger- 
ous path far enough to be able to catch the 
goat with her crook, and drag it up ; then, throw- 
ing it over her shoulder, she ascended the path 
on her hands and knees. It seemed here as if a 
stream of fire were poured into the chasm from 
the skies. In the deep, a pine-tree was split with 
a crashing sound. Heaven and earth seemed to 
be roaring together. Crackling above ; and, be- 
low, the waters and blocks of ice were thundering 
and rushing on their stormy course ; so that the 
world appeared in a wild state of dissolution to 
the lonely wanderer as she stood on the rock. 


OB, A TALE OF THE TTBOL. 129 


As though stunned, she finally reached the safe 
border patWay. 

Wiping her eyes, she recovered her breath, 
and rested for a moment ; for she was almost 
blinded ; and, besides, the kid trembled so on 
her shoulder, that she was compelled to bind it 
tightly, so as to carry it farther. 

Crash after crash thundered about her; and 
the lightning shot down upon her in such streaks, 
that the heavens appeared like unto a leaky 
vessel full of fire. 

Suddenly — what was that? a human voice! 
A cry for help sounded clearly through the rush- 
ing and raging of the elements. Wally, who 
had not quivered before the fury of the thunder 
and hurricane, now trembled. A human voice I 
— now ! — here above with her in this terrible con- 
vulsion of Nature, in this chaos ! This frightened 
her more than the uproar of the elements. 

She listened breathlessly, in what direction the 
cry could come from. She might have been mis- 
taken. But again she heard it ; and close to her 
she caught the words, “ Look here, you who are 
up there! Come and help me!’’ In the mist 
and rain a figure appeared, who seemed to be 
dragging with it another figure. Whose face was 
that? Wally was almost turned to stone. Those 
bright eyes, that black beard, that delicately- 
chiselled nose ! She looked and looked, and 
became incapable of moving a muscle in her 
terror ; for it was the St. George, — Joseph, the 
bear-slayer. 

He started, too, on catching sight of Wally as 
9 


130 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


she turned round, but from another cause. 
‘‘Good God! it is a girl!” said he almost 
timidly, gazing in amazement at Wally. When 
he had seen her back, owing to her size, he had 
mistaken her for a shepherd. Now he saw a 
maiden before him ; and as she stood there with 
her long cloak falling about her in stiff folds, her 
dark, wet hair hanging loosely over her face, 
with her crook in her hand, the kid on her 
broad shoulders, and her large, sparkling eyes 
fixed on him, he shuddered for an instant, as 
though in the presence of a supernatural being. 

He had never in his life seen such a powerful 
and mighty woman, and he, could not, at first, 
take her all in. 

“Oh!” said he, as light began to break on 
him, “you must be Geier-Wally, belonging to 
Stromminger? ” 

“Yes, I am she,” answered the girl, breath- 
less. 

“ Well, then, I should have nothing to do with 
you, by rights.” 

“ Why not? ” asked Wally, growing pale ; and 
a fiash of lightning covered her, and made her 
copper helmet shine in the glare. 

Joseph remained silent ; for the thunder-clap 
that followed shook the surroundings, and the 
hailstones began to fall afresh. 

Joseph looked at the girl in embarrassment as 
she stood immovable while the balls of ice struck 
the light bowl on her head. He bent over the 
lifeless body which he carried. 

“ You know, since that affair in Solden, your 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 131 


father scorns me ; and people sa}^ that you are 
also impossible to get on with. But this poor 
girl can go no farther. The lightning struck 
close by her, and knocked her over : she is quite 
unconscious. ^Will you take us to your hut, so 
that she can rest? and, as soon as the storm is 
over, we will leave you ; and I can assure you 
that it shall never happen again.’’ 

Wally gazed at him strangely as he spoke, 
half defiantly and half sadly. Her lips twitched 
as though she would have answered him angrily ; 
but she refrained, and, after an inward struggle, 
said quietly, “Come!” and walked ahead of 
him. After a little while she turned, and asked, 
“ Who is this girl?” 

“ She is a poor servant-girl from Vintschgau, 
who is going to the Lamb Inn, in Zwieselstein. 
My mother is dead; and I had to go over to 
Vintschgau on account of some inheritance ; and, 
as I was coming back this way, I brought the 
girl with me,” answered Joseph evasively. 

“ Is your mother dead? You poor fellow! ” 
cried Wally sympathetically. 

“Yes. That was a dreadful blow,” said 
Joseph sadly. “ My good little mother ! ” 

Wally perceived that it pained him to speak of 
her, and was silent. They said no more until 
they arrived at the hut. 

“ This is an awful hole,” said Joseph, striking 
his brow against the door on entering, although 
he bent his head. 

“It must be pretty bad to have to shut up 
one’s child in such a dog’s kennel ! Well, you 
compelled him to do it, at all events ! ” 


132 


GEIEU-WALLY; 


‘ ‘ Indeed ! You know all about it ? ” said W ally 
bitterly, as she unloosed the kid, and placed it in 
a corner. She then shook her bed, and assisted 
Joseph to arrange the stranger in it. Her hands 
trembled as she did so. 

‘‘Well,’’ continued Joseph unintentionally: 
“ every one knows how wild you are (like your 
father) , and that you almost killed Gellner Vin- 
cenz, and, in a rage, set fire to your father’s 
barn. You know here, if you do such things, it 
can do no harm.” 

“ Do you know why I struck Vincenz, and set 
the barn on fire?” said Wally tremulously. 
“ Do you know why I am up here in a dog-kennel, 
as you just called it? Do you know whyV^ and 
she broke a thick branch of a tree with her hands 
across her knee; and the wood divided into 
splinters with a crash, so that Joseph involuntarily 
admired her strength. 

“ No,” said he. “ How should I know? ” 

“Well, then, do not talk about a thing you 
know nothing about,” muttered she gently, as 
she made up the fire to heat some milk for the 
sick girl. 

“Well, tell me about it, if you think I do you 
injustice.” 

And Wally suddenly burst into that shrill, 
bitter laugh which was her own, and which always 
came forth when her heart secretly bled. “ You 
— I shall tell youV^ cried she. “Yes: you 
would just be the right person to whom to tell 
it ! ” and, hastily rinsing a bowl, she poured the 
milk in it, and hung it over the crackling fire. 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 133 


Joseph did not appreciate the grief which lay 
in her disdain : he felt only the scorn, and turned 
awa3’’ indignantly. 

“ One cannot speak to you: people are quite 
right.” And from that moment he devoted him- 
self to the sick girl. 

Wally was also silent, and only looked, now 
and then, as she moved about, at Joseph, as he sat 
on a stool near the bed, in the bright red firelight. 
His eyes glittered lilie coals in the refiection of the 
fiames, which shone sometimes more brightly than 
at others ; so that the handsome, firm countenance 
of the hunter altered marvellously, sometimes 
appearing to be gloom}^, and then, again, becom- 
ing pleasant. 

Wally suddenly recalled the dream she had 
had on the first night which she had spent here. 
“ The fairies would melt away before him now, 
like snow before a fire,” thought she. And it 
seemed to her impossible to take her eyes off of 
him without drawing blood, as is said of the 
heart when it is torn out. She turned away ; and 
two drops fell from her eyes. They were not of 
blood ; but they caused her as much anguish. 

The stranger now came to, and asked wonder- 
ingly, — 

“ What is it all about? ” 

“ Be quiet, Afra,” said Joseph. “ You know 
you were almost killed by the lightning; and 
Stromminger Wally brought us to her hut.” 

“ Holy Virgin ! Are we under the Geier- 
Wally’s roof? ” said the terrified girl. 

“Be quiet,” said Joseph consolingly. “As 
soon as you are better, we will go on.” 


134 


GEIER-WALLY; 


“ And so you have heard of me in Vinlschgau. 
Drink this to your fear/’ said Wally quietly, 
with a touch of go 3 d-natured mockery in her 
voice, handing her the warm milk with a little 
brandy in it. Afra attempted to sit up, but 
failed ; and Wally hastily caught her, and raised 
her up. She held her in her arms like a child, 
and gave her a drink with her other hand. Afra 
drank deeply from the wooden bowl ; but she was 
so weak, that, as soon as she had finished, her 
head sank on Wally’s shoulder. Wally signed 
to Joseph to take awa}'^ the bowl, and remained 
patientlj^ in her place, so as not to disturb her 
patient. 

Joseph watched her thoughtfully as she sat by 
the bedside with the girl in her arms. “ You are 
a beautiful woman,” said he frankly. “ What a 
pity it is that 3^ou are so disagreeable.” 

Wally blushed slightly as he spoke. 

“ But 3^om' heart beats warmly,” said Afra. 
“ I can feel it.” And, raising her head more 
steadily, she looked up into the lovely, sunburnt 
face, and into her large eyes. 

Wally also examined her charge more closely’. 
She saw that she had lovely features, soft blue 
eyes, and golden hair which looked like sillt ; 
and unconsciously a strange feeling of fear over- 
came her. She looked at Joseph, and arose to 
busy herself once more. 

‘‘Are you sure she is the Geier-Wall}^? ” 
asked Afra, as though she could not understand 
why the Geier- Wally, who was so abused, should 
be so kind. 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 135 

“One would not think so; but she declares 
herself to be that person/’ answered Joseph in 
a low voice. 

“ I will soon show you that I am she,” cried 
Wally proudly ; and, opening the door, she called 
out, “ Hansel, Hansel, where are you ? ” A 
shrill shriek was her answer; and Hansel at 
once flew down from the roof, and dropped into 
the room. 

“Gracious! What is that?” said Afra, 
crossing herself. But Joseph placed himself 
before her to protect her. 

“ That is the vulture I took out of the nest 
when I was a child, — over there on the ledge of 
Burgstein. It gives me my surname, Geier- 
Wally.” Her eyes rested proudly on the bird, 
as a soldier gazes on the conquered flag. “ Look 
here ! I have tamed it, so that I can allow it 
perfect liberty ; and it never flies away.” 

She placed it on her shoulder, and unfolded its 
wings, to prove that they were undipped. 

“ What a magnificent fellow,” said Joseph, as 
the eyes of the hunter gazed enviously at the 
splendid bird, which every hunter would have 
begrudged to his comrades, and how much more 
to a mere girl ! Something in his glance seemed 
to excite the vulture; for it shrieked shrilly, 
ruffled its feathers, and curved its neck before 
Joseph. 

Wally felt the unusual disturbance on her 
shoulder, and tried to quiet the bird by patting 
it. “Why, Hansel! what is the matter with 
you ? You do not generally behave so strange- 
ly-’’ 


136 


GEIEE-WALLY; 


f 

“Oh, 3^ou rascal ! You know a hunter when 
you see him, don’t y^ou?” laughed Joseph, and 
attempted haughtily to seize the bird, as though 
he would have taken it from Wally. The vul- 
ture, infuriated, suddenly showed its strength, 
and, spreading its wings, flew up to the ceilingy 
and descended with all its force on the enemy. 
A cryof hon’or escaped from Wally’s lips. Afra 
fled into a corner ; and the small hut was almost 
filled by the furious bird, that hearkened no longer 
to the calls of its mistress, and continued to peck 
at Joseph with its beak, and to cling to him 
with its claws. All was soon in confusion ; and 
the walls were covered with feathers, and blood 
from Joseph’s hands. “ My knife, — if I could 
only get at myr knife!” cried he. Wally tore 
the door open: “Go out, Joseph, into the air. 
In this hole you can do nothing.” 

But the “ slayer of the bear ” would not run 
away from a vulture. “ The devil may fetch me 
if I stir from this spot!” moaned he. The 
struggle lasted a moment longer. Then Joseph 
succeeded, pressing his face against the wall, in 
seizing the bird by his claws, and, with one gigan- 
tic effort, threw the hawk on the ground, while 
it wounded his arms and hands with its beak. 
“Now get my knife. Pull it out of my pocket. 
I have neither of my hands free,” cried he to 
Wally. 

But Wally otherwise employed her time. She 
sprang up, and threw a coarse cloth over the 
vulture’s head. It was then easy for her to bind 
its claws together, and thus render it defenceless. 


OJB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 137 

Joseph cast it on the ground. The proud bird 
struggled in the cloth on the floor ; and Joseph 
went out and loaded his gun. 

“What are you doing there?” said Wally, 
astonished. 

“ I am loading my gun,” said he, pressing hia 
teeth together in agony as his hands caused him 
great pain. When he had loaded his gun, he 
took up the bird, and threw it out of the hut, 
into the air. Then, placing himself close to it, 
he took aim, and said softly, imperiously, to 
Wally, “ Unloose it.” 

“What am I to do?” asked Wally, who 
thought she could not have heard aright. 

“Let it fly!” 

“ What for? ” 

“ So that I can Are at it. Do you not know 
that no true hunter takes aim, unless his game is 
on the wing?” 

“Yes, certainly,” cried Wally. “But you 
surely are not going to kill my Hansel ? ” 

Joseph now looked at her in amazement. 
“ Shall I allow that miserable wretch to live? ” 

“ Joseph,” cried Wally, placing herself flrmly 
before him, “ leave me my Hansel uninjured. At 
the risk of my life, I fought for it with its moth- 
er, and have brought it up myself. No one cares 
for me except this bird : it is my only posses- 
sion in the whole world. You cannot mean to 
touch it.” * 

“ Really 1 ” said Joseph bitterly and sharply. 
“That devil nearly pecked my eyes out; and 
shall I leave it unhurt? ” 


138 


GEIEE-WALLY; 


“It did not know you. It is not the bird’s 
fault : it knows no better. You surely will not 
avenge yourself on such a senseless creature.” 

Joseph stamped his feet. “Now unloose it, 
so that it can fly, or I will shoot it as it is ; ” 
and he took aim. 

Wally’s blood boiled within her ; and she forgot 
every thing on account of her protege, “We 
wilt see about that,” cried she angrily, “ whether 
you dare to touch my property ! Put away your 
gun! The bird is mine; (do you hear me?) 
and I will allow no harm to reach it, whatever 
the consequences may be. Put your gun away, 
or you shall soon know me ! ” She grasped the 
gun hastily ; and it exploded loudly against the 
ledge of the rock. 

Something in her manner overcame the sturdy 
fellow, the bear-slayer ; and he apparently quietly 
took up the gun, saying scornfully, “ As you 
like. I will leave you your crooked-beaked lover : 
perhaps it may be your only one. You — you 
shall still be the Geier- Wally ! ” 

Without casting another look at her, he tore 
his handkerchief into strips, and tried to bind up 
his wounded hands. Wally now perceived their 
condition for the first time, and sprang towards 
him, as though she would have assisted him ; for 
-her own heart was sore, at the sight. “God, 
man ! what a state your hands are in 1 ” she 
exclaimed. “ Gome with me : let me dress them 
and bathe them for you.” 

But Joseph pushed her aside. “ Leave me alone. 
Afra can do it.” 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYBOL. 139 


He entered into the hut. A mortal dread 
came over her. She realized that she had, per- 
haps, made him her enemy forever ; and she felt 
as though she could no longer live. Half crushed, 
she went in after him ; and her eyes followed the 
strange girl with a look of jealous hatred as she 
bound up Joseph’s wounds. 

“Joseph,” said Wally, in a suffocated voice, 
“do not think, because I would not allow you 
to shoot Hansel, that therefore your wounds 
do not grieve me. If it could have healed them, 
3^ou might have killed both Hansel and me ; but 
it would not have done you any good.” 

“Very well: you need not apologize,” said 
Joseph coldly. “Afra,” said he to the girl, 

“ are you able to go on now? ” 

“ Yes,” she replied. 

“Well, then, get ready : we will start.” 

The color all left Wally’s cheek. “Joseph, 
won’t you rest a bit? I have as yet given you 
nothing to eat. I will soon cook something for 
you — or do you prefer a glass of milk ? ’ ’ 

“Thank you for all. I must now hasten to ^ 
reach home before nightfall. The rain has ceased ; 
and Afra can walk again.” 

He then assisted the girl in her preparations, 
slung his gun over his shoulder, and took up his 
alpenstock. 

Then Waliy picked up one of the feathers 
which Hansel had lost in the struggle, and stuck 
it in Joseph’s hat. “ You must wear this feather, 
Joseph. You should wear it, for you conquered 
the hawk ; and the bird would have been yours, 
had you not given it to me.” 


140 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


But Joseph pulled it out of his hat. “ You 
may mean well ; but I will not wear this feather. 
I am not in the habit of di\iding my spoils with 
a girl.” 

‘‘ Well, then, take the vulture with you. You 
may have it; but I pray you not to kill it,’’ 
cried Wally, breathless. 

Joseph was lost in wonder. “ What an idea ! 
I will take nothing from you on which you place 
such value. Perhaps, if I ever capture a live 
bear, I may bring it up to you to complete your 
household ; but, until then, you shall not see me 
again. I might happen to come across the bird 
and kill it ; but, if I ever do so, you may be sure 
I will avoid this neighborhood. God bless you, 
and thank you for your hospitality ! ” 

With these words he walked proudly and 
quietly out of the hut. 

Afra stooped down, and picked up the feather 
thrown aside by Joseph, saying, “ Give me this 
feather. I will place it in my prayer-book, and 
pray to our Lord for you, whenever I see it.” 

“As you like,” said Wally sadly: she had 
hardly grasped the meaning of Afra’s words. 
The storm seemed now to be in herself. She 
followed the wanderers to the door of the hut. 
The hurricane had ceased ; the dark clouds were 
scattered ; and the distant hills appeared through 
the misty openings. The mighty thunder-god 
still moaned as he withdrew ; and the water ran 
down in torrents into the valley. Otherwise all 
was peaceful about, and a white sheet of snow 
and hailstones was spread over the mountain. 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYBOL. 141 


Wally stood there motionless, pressing her 
hands on her heart. “He cannot understand 
how poor one must he to cling to such a bird,’’ 
said she to herself. Kneeling down, she unloosed 
the half-stunned bird that clutched her arm trem- 
blingly, and looked up at her with an expression 
of sympathy, as if it would have begged her par- 
don. “Yes, you may well look at me,’’ she 
sobbed, “O Hansel, Hansel! what have j^ou 
done? ” 

She seated herself on the. steps leading to her 
hut, let Hansel drop, and cried as if her heart 
would break, until she wearied of the sound of 
her own sobbing. She glanced up at a high bank 
of snow which rose perpendicularly behind her, 
and then down into the snow- vaults, where death 
had extended itself on every side. In the dis- 
tance, rain hung over the earth; and suddenly 
she again felt deeply, as on the first day, that 
she was in a desert, and that she had remained 
there I 


142 


GEIER-WALLY; 


CHAPTER X. 

THE HIGH-PEASANT. 

NOTHER twelve months elapsed. 

It was a hard year for Wally; foi 
when the lonely summer came to an end 
in the wilderness, Stromminger sent for 
his flocks ; and Wally descended on the other side 
of the mountain, into the Schnalzer Valley, and 
there applied for work. She did not wish to 
return to the Rofeners, as she could not accept 
them. It was as diflacult for her to obtain a 
home here as it had been in the Oetz Valley ; and 
she finally asked only that Hansel should be 
taken in with her without any further reward. 

Her lot was naturally a sad one. She was 
looked down upon for this “nonsense,” as it was 
called, and treated shamefully by the women ; 
while she frequently had to repulse the disagree- 
able advances which the men made to the beau- 
tiful girl. She, nevertheless, bore it all bravely ; 
for she was too proud to complain and grieve 
under her burden, which she had taken up of 
her own free will. 

But she forgot the rector’s warning, and grew 
harder and harder. The ghosts of the murdered 
joys of her youth rose before her, clamoring for 
vengeance. In the springtime of life, three years 
lost is a long period. Other girls cry and lament 




OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 143 


over a lost dance. Wally did not mourn over 
the dances, and the many other enjoyments of 
her 3’'outh which she had missed : she grieved only 
for her love thrown away. And her nature, on 
which no sunbeam shone, soon grew bitter and 
hard, like fruit that has ripened in the shade. 

Thus she again climbed on to her mountain in 
the spring of the year. The spring was cold, and 
the summer stormy. Rain, snow, and hail fell 
alternately; so that Wally’s garments were often 
wet for days ; and she breathed for weeks an 
atmosphere of dampness, surrounded by a chaos 
of clouds, seeing no light, as before the creation 
of the world. 

The chaos, on a small scale, reigned in Wally’s 
bosom — the world still a sad, dreary dream to 
her, like unto the clouds and mist about her ; 
and the Creator came not to say, “ Let there be 
light!” 

One day, however, after endless weeks of 
gloom, he spoke his mighty word ; and the first 
ray of light shot once more through the clouds, 
and separated them. All at once a lovely uni- 
verse was formed out of the chaos, with hills and 
valleys, forests and lakes. All lay completed 
before Wally ; and she seemed to awake to new 
life, as the mother of mankind once did, and 
rejoiced in concert with the world, which God had 
made so beautiful, and that he, instead of keep- 
ing it to himself, allowed man to take part in his 
enjoyment. 

And was there really no pleasure, then, on this 
lovely world? And why had God placed her. 


144 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


poor Eve, alone in this solitude, so that he for 
whom she was born should never find her’ 
“ Below, below : I have had enough of it here ! ” 
cried a voice suddenly in her ; and the desire to 
live, love, and enjoy, arose so powerfully in her 
heart, that she stretched out her arms longingly 
into the sunny, smiling universe beneath her. 

“ Wally, you are to come down at once ; your 
father is dead.” The shepherd’s boy stood be- 
fore her. ♦ 

Wall}^ looked at him as though in a trance. 

Was it a ghost of her own heart, which had 
just called out so loudty for happiness? She 
seized the boy by the shoulders, to feel if he were 
a real being, and not a spectre. 

He repeated the message : ‘ ‘ His leg grew 
worse and worse. It mortified ; and he died this 
morning. You are now mistress of the high- 
farm ; and Klettenmaier sends you his greeting.” 

And so it was really true. Her rescuer, and 
messenger of peace and liberty, stood full of life 
before her. God had shown her the beauties of 
the world beforehand, to say to her, “That is 
now yours. Come down and take what I have 
prepared for you.” 

She returned quietly to her hut, and locked her- 
self in. She then knelt down, prayed, and gave 
thanks, — prayed for some time, once more ear- 
nestly, from the bottom of her heart ; and warm 
tears arose from her liberated and reconciled 
heart at the thought of her father, who had left 
her now, without her having, even as a child, 
dared or been able to love him. 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 145 

She then descended into her own country, 
which was at last home to her again ; and she 
trod once more on her own land and property. 
Klettenmaier stood at the gate, waving his cap 
joyfully as she drew near. The maid who had 
been so rude to Wally two years before brought 
her the keys, humbly weeping ; and Vincenz wel- 
comed her at the door of the house. 

“ Wally, ’’ said he, “you have treated me 
very ill; but” — 

Wally interrupted him quietly, but firmly : — 

“ Vincenz, if I have injured you, God will 
punish me as he wishes. I cannot regret it, or 
make up for it ; neither do I ask you to forgive 
me. Now you understand me ; and I beseech 
3"ou to leave me alone.” 

And, without deigning to look on him again, 
she went in to her father’s corpse, and locked the 
door. She stood there tearless. She might have 
wept over her dead father’s spirit, now that he 
had “ shuffled off this mortal coil;” but before 
his earthly body, that had persecuted her, beaten 
her, and trampled upon her, she was like a stone, 
and could not shed a tear. 

She offered up a prayer quietly ; but she did 
not kneel down by his side. As she had stood 
before her father in his lifetime, motionless and 
self-contained, so she stood by the side of the 
dead man, but without anger. She was recon- 
ciled to him in death. 

She then went into the kitchen to prepare the 
supper for the neighbors, when they came at 
night to pray and keep watch over the corpse. 

10 


146 


GEIEB-WALLT; 


She found plenty to occupy her there ; and at 
midnight the room was filled to overflowing with 
watchers ; so that Wally could hardly provide 
them with food and drink ; for, the richer the 
peasant, the more watchers and prayers will he 
have. Wally gazed at it all with silent horror. 
Here lay a dead man ; and they were eating and 
drinking like so many flies. The dull hum and 
noise about her struck her as small and pitiable 
in comparison to the grand stillness of her moun- 
tain, so that she involuntarily wished herself 
back there again. She walked silently and coldly 
among the moaning crowd, eating and drinking ; 
and she was thought to bear a striking resem- 
blance to her dead parent. The burial took place 
on the third da3^ From near and far came 
people to the ceremony, — some to do a last honor 
to the feared and wealthy peasant ; and some to 
conciliate the wicked Geier- Wally, who was, after 
all, now mistress of all of StrommingeFs pos- 
sessions. Formerly she had been an “ incendia- 
ry ’’ and a “ good-for-nothing : ’’ now she was the 
wealthiest woman in the mountains, which changed 
the face of all. 

Wally realized the change, and also its cause, 
when, after the burial, the same people, who, a 
year ago, had turned her away from their doors 
with scorn and shame, when, hungry and cold, 
she had begged for work, now bent low before 
her, wreathed in smiles. She turned aside in 
disgust ; and from that hour she despised the 
human race. 

The rector of Heiligkreuz and the Rofeners 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYBOL. 147 


were also present. The moment had now come 
when she could (at all events outwardly) repay 
them for their kindness to her when she had 
been solitary and poor ; and, before all men, she 
did them honor, and remained by their side. 

After the funeral, the people retired, and the 
priest staid with her. He spoke many kind words 
to her. “ You are now mistress of a large house- 
hold,” said he; “ but remember that whoever 
cannot exercise self-control neither can they 
control others. It is an old raying, ‘ that he who 
would command must first learn obedience.* 
Learn to obey, my child, so that you may also 
command.** 

“ But, your honor, whom shall I obey? There 
is now no one here who can have any authority 
over me.** 

“ God.** 

Wally was silent. 

“ Here,** said the chaplain, drawing something 
out of the pocket of his white robe. “See, I 
have long intended this for you, — ever since you 
first came to me ; but you could not have carried 
it in your wanderings.’* He took out of a box 
a well-carved figure of a saint on a small wooden 
pedestal. 

“ This is your patron saint, the holy Wallbur- 
ga. Do you remember what I told you about 
hard and soft wood, and how God can carve a 
saint out of a knotty log? ** 

“Yes, 5^es,** said Wally. 

“Well, now, so that you should not forget it, 
I sent to Solden for this little figure. Hang it 


148 GEIER-WALLY; 

over your bed, and pray earnestly : that will help 
you.’’ 

“ I am much obliged to your honor,” said 
Wally joyfully, taking the brittle figure in her 
hand with great care. “ I will certainly always 
remember your explanation of it when I look at 
it. And so St. Wallburga looked like this? Oh, 
she must have been a lovely and lovable woman ! 
— yes, any one who was as good and pious as 
she.” 

And, when Klettenmaier came across the yard 
to her, she held out her gift to him, and ex- 
claimed, “ Look here, Klettenmaier, what I have 
received! — St. Wallburga, my patron saint. 
And we must send the rector our first pretty 
lamb.” 

The good priest refused such an exchange of 
presents ; but Wally would not give up the satis- 
faction and pleasure it gave her. 

After the departure of the rector, Wally went 
into her room, and nailed the pedestal between 
the pictures of saints over her bed, and sur- 
rounded it with old Luckard’s cards. She then 
went to look over the house and in the yard. 

“Hansel,” cried she, in passing, to the vul- 
ture on the roof of the woodshed, “we are now 
masters here 1 ” And the feeling of power after 
her long servitude intoxicated her, like wine in 
the veins of the exhausted. 

In the yard, the hired servants were gathered 
together, surrounding Vincenz. He had grown 
thin and sallow ; and on the crown of his head 
was a bald spot, like a priest’s tonsure. His 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL, 149 


sparkling eyes were deeply sunken in his head, 
and appeared like the eyes of a wolf, peering out 
of a crevice in a rock, watching for its pre5^ 

“What is the matter?” asked Wally, stand- 
ing still. 

The upper maid-servant, who had once treated 
her so rudely, now approached in timid subjec- 
tion. 

“We only wished to ask if you were now 
going to dismiss us, on account of our ill-treat- 
ment of you in Stromminger’ s lifetime. You know 
we were obliged to obey his orders.” 

“ You did your duty,” said Wally quietly. 
‘ ‘ I will dismiss no one until I find him or her to 
be dishonest or a bad servant ; and, if you would 
be less subservient, it would please me better. 
Go, now, to your work : let me see what you can 
do ; that will be more sensible than these tom- 
fooleries.” 

The servants retired. Vincenz remained in 
his place, and fixed his eyes excitedly on Wally. 
She turned towards him, and extended her hand 
against him. 

“ I banish but one from my property, — you, 
Vincenz ! ” said she. 

“Wally!” cried he. “This — is this yoiu* 
return for all I did for your father? ” 

“The assistance you rendered my father as 
his overseer, during his lameness, shall be repaid 
to you. I will give you the Matten property, 
which adjoins your farm, and smTounds your 
possessions. I fancy that this will repay you for 
your time and labor ; and if it is not sufficient, 


150 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


then say so, for I will not be under obligations 
to 3^ou. Ask for whatever you desire, but depart 
out of my sight/’ 

“I desire nothing. I wish nothing but you, 
Wally : all else is indifferent to me. You nearly 
killed me. You have ill treated me whenever 
you have seen me; and — the devil may take 
me, but I cannot give you up ! See here : I did 
all for your sake. I could commit murder for 
you ; I would sell my soul’s future for you : and 
you wish to satisf}^ me with the Matten ! Do you 
think that you can thus get rid of me? Offer 
me all that you possess, and the Oetz Valley into 
the bargain, I despise them, unless you will give 
me yourself. Look at me ! the marrow is con- 
sumed in my bones. I cannot account for it. 
But for one kiss of yours I will give you all my 
possessions, and perish of hunger! Now send 
the arithmetician to me, and let him once more 
enumerate the sum of money to me, and the 
property, by which you will get rid of me ! ” 
And, with a look of wild and bitter scorn, he left 
Wally, and went out of the yard. 

She shuddered at the thought of him. She 
had never seen him thus before. She had pene- 
trated into the depths of an incalculable passion ; 
and she hesitated between horror and pity. 

“What can I possess,” thought Wall}^, “that 
men become so ridiculous on my account?” 
Alas I the only one did not come forward : the 
only one she would accept rejected her with 
disdain. And suppose he should marry mean- 
while ? Her breath stopped at the thought. She 


OE, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 151 

again thought of the stranger who had accompa- 
nied him over the Hochjoch. But no, was she 
not a maid ? 

Something must soon happen, however. She 
was now rich and respected : she could now make 
some advances. But her sense of maidenly pride 
struggled against the thought; and “patience, 
always patience,” was her only comfort. 

She wandered restlessly about the house and 
meadows. Week after week elapsed ; but she 
could not get accustomed to the life. She soon 
found out that she could not exist in a village. 
She was still Murzoll’s child, the wild Wally. 

She scorned unmercifully whatever appeared 
to her small and foolish. She tied herself down 
to no regular work, to no habits, and no customs. 
She feared no one. She had learned to have no 
fear in the distant hills. She carried here in her 
daily existence the same iron front which she 
had opposed above to the terror of the elements. 
She stood in the midst of the villagers, with her 
powerful soul and body, like a creature from 
another world. She had become a stranger to 
the customs of the peasants, and was disliked, in 
consequence, by them all; but they did not, 
nevertheless, dare to approach the high-peasant. 

This feeling of enmity, and the cowardliness 
which lay behind it, did not escape the maiden, 
although it always presented to her a smiling 
countenance. 

“ I need ask no one any thing,” was her de- 
fiant motto ; and she therefore followed the wild 
impulses of her heart. If she felt like it, she 


152 


GEIEB -WALLY; 


worked all day long like a hired laborer, to 
stimulate the lazy servants ; and, if one did not 
accomplish his task, she would tear it impa- 
tiently from him, and finish it herself. Then, 
again, she would pass her days in melancholy 
dreams, or wander about the mountains, so that 
people began to think that she was not quite 
herself. Meanwhile the men and maid servants 
did as they pleased; and the peasants were 
already wickedly rejoiced that she should thus 
allow the whole propertj^ to go to rack and ruin. 

While she resisted every system of order and 
all usages, she was, on the other hand, severe 
to excess, almost, in regard to matters to which 
the peasants did not attach so much importance. 
If she caught a servant in a dishonest act, or in 
any deceit, she brought him before the judge. 
If any one abused or hurt an animal, she seized 
him, infuriated, by the collar, and shook him. 
If one of her servants returned in a state of 
intoxication at night, she would shame him by 
locking him out, and forcing him to spend the 
night in the open air, in spite of rain or snow. 
If she detected any of her maids in carelessness 
or neglect, she dismissed them at once ; for her 
mind was as pure and chaste as the glaciers, 
with which she had so long lived. All love- 
making and fiirting, whisperings, and such like, 
filled her with loathing. 

She was, therefore, renowned for pitiless severi- 
ty, and was as much feared as her father had 
been before her. 

In spite of all this, she seemed to have capti- 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 153 

vated the young men. Not only her wealth, but 
she herself, and her strange ideas, seemed to 
fill them with longing. When she stood before 
them, so tall that she appeared to be on a pedes- 
tal, so slight, and yet so firmly and proudly 
built, that her bodice looked as though she were 
moulded in it ; when she raised her arm threat- 
eningly toward them (that arm which was as 
muscular as a man’s), and a look of disdain 
sparkled in her large black ej^es, — they were 
seized with a desire of love and battle ; so that 
they would have fought for life and death for the 
sake of one kiss. But then they never were strong 
enough to vanquish this woman ; and they were 
forced to retire, covered with scorn and shame. 
He who could master her must yet come forward. 
Would he ever come? Patience! She awaited 
him ! 

“ Whoever can say that I have given him a 
kiss, him will I marry ; but whoever cannot 
obtain a kiss from me by strength, the high- 
peasant was not created for any such,” said she 
one day haughtily. And the news soon spread 
abroad through the land ; and the men came from 
near and far to try their luck, and take her at 
her word. It became literally a question of 
honor to woo the wild Wally, as is every act of 
hazard to a man capable of defending himself. 

There was soon no marriageable youth in the 
whole Valley of Oetz and Gurgler and Schnalzer, 
who had not made the attempt to overcome Wally, 
and to obtain the kiss, which had as yet been 
granted to no one. She enjoyed the wild sport 


154 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


and her great power, and knew that Joseph would 
constantly hear of her, as her fame was known all 
over the country ; and she could not but think 
that he must, at last, present himself, and carry 
oflf the prize, if it were only as with the bear, to 
prove his might. 

“ If he were only here ! ” thought she. “ Why 
should he not love me, like every one else, particu- 
larly if I were very kind and gentle with him? 
But he did not appear. 

In his stead, a messenger from Vent came 
over to the Stag Inn, which backed on to the 
Stromminger vegetable-garden. 

Wall}^, who was weeding it, heard him mention 
Joseph’s name, and listened to the messenger’s 
story, standing behind the hedge. 

He said, that, since his mother’s death, 
Joseph Hagenbach spent much of his time at 
the Lamb Inn, in Zwieselstein ; and there was 
some talk of a love-affair between him and the 
pretty Afra, the bar-maid of that inn. Yester- 
day he had again been there, and had dined 
alone with Afra, while the hostess had been busy 
in the kitchen. A bull had suddenly broken 
loose, and rushed through the village like a 
hurricane. The animal had been stung in the 
ear by a hornet. Every one fled into the houses, 
and locked their doors. The innkeeper was just 
doing the same, when he perceived his youngest 
child, a little girl of five years of age, lying in 
the street. He could not get to her, for the chil- 
dren had been playing some game, and, when the 
bellowing of the ferocious animal was heard, she 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 155 

was tied to a wheelbarrow. Her playmates ran 
olF, bat Liesel could not free herself so quickly, 
bound as she was to the barrow ; and she only 
stumbled, and entangled herself in the rope. She 
now lay in the middle of the lane ; and the animal 
rushed at her with its horns. 

There was no time to unloose the child, or to 
carry her off with the wheelbarrow ; for the bull 
was already on the spot. The cries of the inn- 
keeper and Afra resound through the village. 
But look ! Joseph is already there, and plunges a 
pitchfork into the beast’s side. 

The bull, with a roar, turns on Joseph. Out 
of every window there is a cry for help ; but no 
one comes forward. Joseph seized the brute by 
its horns, and, with unnatural strength, compelled 
it to retreat a foot or two. He then struggled 
with it. Meanwhile they have had time to 
fetch the child ; and now all eyes are riveted 
on Joseph : but they every one of them leave 
him to fight alone. Afra wrings her hands, and 
cries loudly for assistance. But the bull throws 
Joseph down, and is on the eve of crushing him, 
when he thrusts his knife in the animal’s throat, 
so that the blood spm’ted out over him. It 
reared, and lifted Joseph up ; for he still held on 
to its horns. The bull dragged him along for a 
short distance, half the time hanging in the air, 
and half on the ground ; but Joseph still clings 
to it. The beast is bleeding in five separate 
places, and grows constantly weaker. Once or 
twice Joseph regains his footing ; but he is always 
again carried off by the furious animal. 


156 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


The peasants have now summoned up courage 
enough to follow Joseph, and render him assist- 
ance. The innkeeper leads them on, armed with 
knives and pitchforks. More and more enraged 
by the noise behind it, the animal once more 
lowers its horns, and throws its burden against a 
closed barn-door. All imagine him to be crushed ; 
but the door gives way under the weight, and 
the animal rushes into the barn, making havoc of 
all the ladders, carts, and ploughs, and upsetting 
them all. Joseph has, however, swung himself 
on to a beam in the ceiling, and closed the door, 
so that the infuriated animal should not again be 
able to get out. They hear him bolting and bar- 
ring the entrance. He is shut in with the wild 
beast in that narrow space, and they are locked 
out, and unable to do anything. Inside, they 
hear the sound of stamping and rushing, inter- 
mingled with roars and moans ; and they shudder 
at the noise. Finally all is still. 

After a few seconds of alarm, the door is 
unfastened ; and Joseph staggers out, bathed in 
blood. They are under the impression that the 
enemy is dead ; but Joseph thinks it would be a 
pity to lose such a magnificent animal : the wounds 
were not mortal, and would easily heal. 

The barn is like a desert. All is crushed and 
broken ; but the bull is bound down to the ground 
fiiml}^, with its four legs tied about with a rope. 

It is l3dng motionless on its side, lilte a calf in 
a butcher’s cart, licking itself, and snorting. 

Alone^ Joseph had bound the animal, still 
living. 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 157 

No one could ever do more. 

When they returned with him to the inn, Afra 
fell on his neck, before all the people, crying and 
shi'ieking ; and the hostess brought him the little 
Liesel, and wished him to partake of the best her 
house could offer; but Joseph was not inclined 
for merry-making. To satisfy his terrible thirst, 
he drank one glass of beer, and returned home. 
The entire village was in an uproar over him ; 
and they all drank immoderately to his health, 
until the night was almost over. 

This was what the messenger related, and 
again many were the toasts given in the honor 
of Joseph Hagenbach ; and the people marvelled 
that he had never come here. The high-peasant 
had so many suitors ; and Joseph seemed to be 
the only one who did not offer himself. 

Wally left her place. The blood had rushed to 
her face with shame as she listened to his words. 
And so people noticed that Joseph scorned her? 
and he was devoted to Afra ? She was the girl 
he had brought over the hills with him twelve 
months ago, and for whom he had shown such 
interest. 

She sunk on a stone, and covered her face with 
her hands. A terrible storm raged in her breast, 
— love, admiration, jealousy. Her heart was 
torn in pieces. She loved him,— loved him as 
never before, as though the breathless eagerness 
with which she had followed the narrative of his 
heroism had fanned the flame into a blaze. 

He had accomplished that ; but she had had 
no part in it. He had done it as the guardian of 


158 


GEIER-WALLT; 


Afra, for her sake. Could it be possible ? Should 
she be compelled to yield to a mere servant ? 

Was she not the wealthiest, and, as all the men 
told her, the loveliest girl in the land? Could 
any, near or far, come up to her in power and 
activity? Was she not the only one who could 
be compared to him ? and were they to be sepa- 
rated ? 

There was only one Joseph in the world ; and 
should he not be hers ? Should he throw himself 
away on a poor adventuress ? No, she never could 
become his : it was impossible ! Why should he 
not go often to the Lamb Inn without its being 
on account of Afra? Did he not hunt a great 
deal? and was not that inn in Zwieselstein, where 
all the roads meet ? “ O Joseph, Joseph, come ! ’ ’ 

wailed she aloud, throwing herself on the ground, 
and burying her face in the weeds as though to 
cool her cheeks in the damp leaves. It struck 
her here, that the messenger had said that Afra 
had fallen into Joseph’s arms on his return. 
The thought of this agitated her. 

But suddenly she fancied herself as his wife, 
and how, when he returned from such deeds of 
valor, worn out and exhausted, she would clasp 
him in her arms, and restore him with every com- 
fort. How she would bathe his heated brow, and 
bind up his wounds, and press him to her heart, 
until he should fall asleep under her caresses ! 

She had never before allowed herself to think 
of it; and, as the thought came over her, she 
trembled under the unknown feeling, as the bud- 
ding flower quivers when bursting into full bloom. 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYBOL. 159 


She had developed into a woman at that in- 
stant. But as all was wild and excited within 
her, so the new feeling, which had just been born 
in her soul, aroused every slumbering, wicked 
thought to battle ; and a terrible struggle ensued. 

The evening breeze blew coldly over her ; but 
she did not feel it. Night drew near ; and the 
ever-peaceful stars beamed down in amazement 
on the shivering figure below, extended on the 
ground in the evening dew, tearing her hair. 

“ The high-peasant again spent the night out- 
side,’’ said the head servant-girl to the remainder 
of the household the following morning. “I 
wonder what she does at night.” And they took 
counsel together, and shook their heads ominousl3\ 

But thej^ scattered like chaff before the wind, 
as Wally came towards them from the vegetable- 
garden. 

She was pale, and looked, withal, more proud 
and domineering than ever before. And so she 
remained. From that day, she was completely 
altered, unjust, moody, and irritable ; so that no 
one but old Klettenmaier dared to converse with 
her. She still cared more for him than for any 
one else. 

She seemed to feel her position ; for, at every 
moment, she brought in the word ‘‘high-peas- 
ant.” Nothing was too good for the high-peas- 
ant. She did not need to agree to any thing. 
The “ high-peasant ” could take any liberty she 
chose, and all such nonsense. 

She arrayed herself daily in her Sunday 
clothes, and had new dresses made for herself. She 


160 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


even ordered a silver belt in Triest, from which 
hung many little objects in silver filagree, heavier 
and richer than any seen heretofore in the Oetz 
Valley. 

At Frohn’s funeral, she took oflf her mourning 
for her father, and dressed herself so gaudily in 
silk, velvet, and silver, that she disturbed the peo- 
ple at their prayers ; and they could only stare at 
her. 

It was the first time she had ever taken part in 
any such ceremony ; and it was very evident that 
her object in being there was to show oflf her new 
clothes and her belt ; for no one knew any thing 
about the strength of her belief. All the neigh- 
bors from the different villages, as far as Vent, 
were present at the service, wliich took place in 
Zwieselstein. 

Her skirts rustled in their fresh stiffness and 
folds, and her silver knick-knacks rattled when 
she knelt, as much as to say, “ See, it is only the 
‘ high-peasant ’ who can afford such things ! ’ ’ 

During the reading of the last gospel, a little 
disturbance took place in the procession ; and the 
people behind her found themselves ahead. It 
was no other than the wife of the innkeeper of 
the place ; and by her side walked the pretty Afra, 
with her slight figure. She turned round, and 
nodded to Wally. She then looked back at 
Joseph, who was walking among the men. At 
least, Wally imagined that she did so. Afra 
looked so lovely at that moment, that Wally, 
out of jealousy, forgot to return her greeting. 

She now heard her say to her companion, 


ORy A TALE OF THE TYROL. 101 


“ That is the Geier-Wally behind us, whose vul- 
ture wounded Joseph. She takes no notice of 
me whatever ; and I have prayed for her so 
often ! 

“You might have spared 3- ourself the trouble,’’ 
interrupted Wally. “No one need pray for me : 
I am quite capable of doing so for myself.” 

“ But I should not think that 3"ou do it,” re- 
joined Afra. 

“ I do not require it as much as others. I 
have all I need, and am not obliged to ask God 
for as much as a poor servant-girl, who must 
pray even for a shoestring when she is in want 
of one.” 

Afra’s face was now suffused with an angry 
flush. “ Oh, a shoestring for which one pray^s 
can bring one more luck than a silver belt worn 
godlessly ! ” 

“ Yes, yes ! ” said the innkeeper’s wife, joiniug 
in the conversation. “ Afra is quite right.” 

“If my silver belt annoys j^ou, why walk be- 
hind ? then you need not look at it. At any rate, 
it is most unseemly for the ‘ high-peasant ’ to 
walk behind a servant.” 

“Well, I can tell y^ou that it would do you no 
harm to follow Afra’s example,” answ^ered the 
elder woman. 

“ Shame on you ! ” said Wally, with her eyes 
flashing, “that you should put yourself on a 
level with your servants. Unless you appreciate 
yourself, no one else will appreciate you.” 

“Oh, oh ! A maid is, after all, a human being,’ ’ 
said Afra, quivering from head to foot. “I do 
n 


162 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


not believe that a silk gown makes any differ- 
ence in God’s sight. He can discover what is 
underneath it, — a good or a bad heart.” 

“ Yes, certainly,” said Wally angrily. “One 
cannot have a heart like j^ours, particularly for 
the men. It is revolting ! ” 

“Wally!” cried Afra, bursting into tears. 
She had to dry them, however, for they had 
again reached the church ; and, after the last 
blessing, the procession broke up. Wally rushed 
before Afra like a queen ; so that the latter would 
have been knocked over, had she not clung to 
her mistress. 

All eyes were fixed on Wally. The men de- 
clared her to be the most beautiful woman in the 
Tyrol. The women were filled with jealousy. 
“ She has changed somewhat since I saw her on 
the Hochjoch, in a dog-kennel, wild and savage 
as a beast,” said Joseph, who was standing quite 
close to her ; and he followed her with his great 
eyes. He then nodded to Afra, and left the 
crowd. He intended to reach home before noon. 

Afra, however, ran after Wally. Her blue 
eyes sparkled in the midst of her tears, as when 
water is thrown on a fire. Both she and her mis- 
tress had lost all self-control. They caught up 
to Wally at the inn. She, also, was in a terri- 
ble state of excitement. She had noticed the 
look, full of affection, which Joseph had given 
Afra ; and she thought that he had paid no atten- 
tion to her. And now he had departed ; and 
with him all the hopes which she had centred on 
this day were deceived. 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYBOL. 163 


This Afra ! She had vented her anger on her, 
and would have liked to have crushed her. And 
now Afra stood before her, in her way, and ac- 
costed her angrily, — she, the lowly servant-girl. 

“ High-peasant,’’ said Afra breathlessl}^, “you 
have just said something to me that I cannot 
allow ; for my honor is here concerned. What 
do you mean b}^ my having a heart for men ? I 
will know what you mean to infer by it ! ” 

“ Do you wish to attack the high-peasant? ” 
cried Wally aloud, looking down with sparkling 
eyes on the gii’l. “ Do 5^ou think I will be drawn 
into a discussion with such a one as you? ” 
“With such a one?” cried the giii. “And 
what kind of a one am I, then? I am a poor 
gui, who has never had any one to care for her ; 
but I have, nevertheless, never harmed any one, 
or set fire to any one’s house. You may as well 
know that I need stand nothing from you.” 

Wally sprang back as though stung by a ser- 
pent. “You are a girl, a shameless girl, who 
throws herself, before every one, into the arms 
of men! ” cried she, forgetting herself and the 
crowd, which was now gathering about her. 

“ What, whom did I throw my arms about? ” 
stammered the girl with a blush. 

“ Shall I tell 3’ou who it was? shall I? ” 

“Yes, say on. My conscience is clear ; and 
my mistress can testify that it is not tme.” 

“So! Is it not true, that two years ago- 
when Joseph was almost a stranger to you, 
you clung to him, and obliged him to di’ag you 
over the Hochjoch, and, indeed, carry you half 


164 GEIEB-WALLY; 

way across, because you pretended to be unable 
to walk ? 

“Is it not true, that, since then, you hardly 
allow him to leave you, so much so, that people 
are already talking about you both? Is it not 
true that you are trying to take Joseph away 
from other maidens, who have more right to him, 
and who would make him better wives than such 
an adventuress ? Is it not true, that lately, after 
the affair with the bull, you fell on Joseph’s 
neck, before the whole village, as if you were 
his affianced bride? Is any of this not true?” 

Afra covered her face with her hands, and 
sobbed aloud, “O Joseph, Joseph ! that I should 
be compelled to endure this ! ” 

“ Be quiet, Afra,” said the kind-hearted inn- 
keeper’s wife. “ She has betrayed herself. This 
is only anger, because Joseph does not run after 
her, to singe his wings, like the rest of the men. 
Oh ! if Joseph were only here, he would soon 
settle it.” 

“Yes, of course. He would not leave his 
dearest sweetheart in the lurch.” And Wally 
burst into a laugh so shrill and sarcastic, that the 
echo of it sounded through the hills, like a moan 
of anguish. “Such a sweetheart is, after all, 
much more convenient than one who must be 
vanquished. And it might happen that he would 
be conquered, and obliged to retire covered with 
shame and ignominy. The i)roud Joseph, slayer 
of the bear, would rather struggle with such a 
girl than with the Geier- Wally.” 

The innkeeper now drew near. “Listen!” 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 165 

said he. “ Now I have had enough of this. This 
girl is a good girl (both my wife and I take her 
part) ; and nothing shall happen to her. Take 
back what you said. I order you to do so. Do 
you hear? ” 

Wally again burst into a loud laugh. “ Master 
of the Lamb Inn, have you ever heard of a vul- 
ture obeying the commands of a lamb? ’’ 

All laughed at the joke ; for the man was a 
proverbial “lamb,” he was so weak and good- 
natured, never taking offence at any thing. 

“Well, you deserve your surname, Geier- 
Wally.” 

“Make room there!” now cried Wally. “I 
have talked enough with you.” 

She then tried to push by Afra into the house. 

But the hostess held Afra by the arm. “ You 
need not make room for her. Just go in before 
her. She is no better than j^ou.” And she at- 
tempted to take the lead with Afra. 

Wally then seized the girl by her skirt, lifted 
her up, and threw her into the arms of the near- 
est people. “First the mistresses, and then the 
maids ; ” and, entering into the room before any 
one, she took her place at the head of the table. 

All laughed and applauded with delight at the 
sport. Afra wept, and was so mortified, that she 
refused to go in, and was taken home by her 
friends. 

“Just wait, Afra: I will send Joseph to her. 
He will manage her,” were the comforting words 
which her mistress spoke on the way home. But 


166 


GEIEli-WALLY; 


Afra shook her head, and thought that that could 
be of no avail. She had been insulted, and must 
remain so. 

“Well, why did you have any thing to say to 
the wicked Stromminger? Every one who can 
avoids her,*’ scolded the innkeeper kindly. 

Meanwhile Wally remained in her place, and 
watched Afra and her companions disappearing. 
Her heart beat so strongly, that her silver orna- 
ments rattled on her breast. 

Wally was invited to eat, the soup and pota- 
toes were growing cold. But she found it unpal- 
atable, and the mutton as tough as leather. 
Throwing a gulden on the table, and without 
waiting for change, she tore out of the room, to 
the astonishment of the peasants. 

On her return home, she took off all her finery, 
as she had done • five years ago, after her confir- 
mation, and threw them into the coffer. 

She crushed the silver belt and ornaments into 
pieces. Of what service had her dress been? 
She had not attracted the one she wished by her 
clothes. 

As of old, she threw herself on her bed, and 
quarrelled with all her saints. She had been 
wounded in her innermost soul. As her e3'es 
rested on the hoty Wallburga, she thought that 
perhaps the pain might be caused by the knife of 
God. He might be now carving her to make a 
saint out of her, as she had been told by the 
priest. 

But why should she become a saint ? She would 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 167 

much sooner have been a happy woman ; and all 
would then have progressed so smoothly ! God 
would not have needed to carve her : she would 
have been beautiful without it. And she resisted, 
and murmured at God’s work. 


168 


GEIER -WALLY; 


CHAPTER XI. 

AT LAST. 

ROM that day forward Wally became 
unendurable. She wandered through 
the country for nights at a time. During 
the day, her temper was beyond all con- 
trol ; and she worked incessantly from dawn to 
dark, and required that every one about her 
should follow her example, which was an impos- 
sibility for most people. 

Gellner Vincenz was tolerated oftener than 
before ; for he always knew all the gossip of the 
valley, and Wally had suddenly acquired a thirst 
for news. As soon as Vincenz perceived this fail- 
ing of hers, he set to work to learn about every 
thing and every one in those regions, so as 
always to have some information to give Wally. 
She once more grew accustomed to his daily visits. 
He soon noticed that her curiosity always took 
the direction of Solden and Zwieselstein ; and, 
sharp as he was, he quickly understood the reason 
for her preference. He brought all manner of 
stories about Joseph and Afra from those places, 
and thej^ evidently excited Wally intensely. He 
pretended, however, not to notice it, and care- 
fully avoided any reference to his love ; so that 
she gi’adually became more trusting and confi- 
dential. Vincenz was, nevertheless, devoured by 




OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 169 


jealousy of Joseph. This Hagenbach had been 
the curse of his life. There was no glory which 
he did not deprive him of, no act of heroism in 
which he did not surpass him, no game or shoot- 
ing-match in which he did not carry off the prize ; 
and now he had robbed him of Wally’s heart, 
which, if Joseph had not existed, might, perhaps, 
have yielded to his persistent wooing. 

“ Why does the Lord give all to one man, and 
nothing to the other?” muttered Vincenz, and 
worried himself continually, as did Wally. Had 
they united them anguish and inveterate hatred, 
they might have devastated the entire Oetz 
Valley. 

One evening during the hay-making season, 
Wally assisted in loading a great hay-wagon. 
The load was at last ready, and needed only the 
large cross-beam on the top ; but the hay was 
packed so high, that the men were unable to raise 
it up. They had lifted it halfway, when they 
allowed it to slip, and began to laugh and joke. 
Wally lost her patience. 

‘‘Get down, you idiots!” ordered she ; and, 
climbing on to the wagon, she shoved off the 
laborers on both sides. She then drew the rope 
about her, raised the beam ; and, surrounding it 
above with her two arms, she landed it on the 
load with one jerk. 

An exclamation of wonder broke forth from all 
sides. The women ridiculed the men for not 
being able to accomplish as much as one of their 
sex ; and the men shook their heads, and thought 
that all could not be as it ought with the high- 


170 


GEIER-WALLY; 


peasant. The Devil must have had something to 
do with this last act of hers. 

Wally stood on the load, and gazed at the red 
setting sun. An expression of pride and self- 
satisfaction rested on her countenance. 

She became again convinced, in that moment, 
of her superiority over her fellow-beings ; and she 
would have liked to have challenged the whole 
world, feeling, as she did, her great power. 

Vincenz came towards her, and called up to 
her, “Wally, you look like Potiphar’s wife seated 
on her elephant. If Joseph had seen her thus, 
he w'ould not have been so indifferent, I am 
sure ! ” 

Wally grew scarlet at these offensive words, 
and sprang down from her position. “ I will not 
permit any such jokes,” said she when she came 
down. 

“Well, well,” said Vincenz in apology, “no 
harm was intended. You stood up there, looking 
so beautiful, that it burst from me involuntarily ; 
but it shall not occur again.” 

They walked silently away together. 

“ What is the news? ” said Wally at last, ac- 
cording to her usual habit. 

“ There is very little,” said Vincenz, “ except 
that they say that Hagenbach is to lead the 
servant-girl Afra to the dance in Solden, on the 
feast-day of St. Paul and St. Peter. I heard it 
from the messenger, who brought Afra a new 
pair of shoes and a silk kerchief from Triest ; and 
Joseph paid for them.” 

Wally pressed her lips tightly together, with- 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYBOL. 171 


out a word ; but Vincenz easily saw what her 
feelings were. 

“I will tell you what,” said Vincenz: “we 
have grand doings on the same day with us ; 
and, if the high-peasant came to them, there 
would be such rejoicing, that it should be spoken 
of both near and far. Come once with me to 
the dance ? ’ ’ 

Wally threw back her head sharply : “I feel 
just like dancing ! ” 

“ But, Wally,” insisted Vincenz, “ do it only 
once, if it were only on account of the people.” 

“ I pay such attention to them , ’ ’ laughed W ally 
contemptuously. 

‘ ‘ But reflect. The world says ” — he hesitated. 

Wally stood still, and looked piercingly at 
Vincenz. “ What do the people say? ” 

Vincenz was terrified at her expression. “ I 
mean only that they fancy j-ou have some secret 
sorrow. The upper maid-servant persists in as- 
serting that you are sometimes away from home 
for several nights, and that you wander about 
strangely. And so the people say, as 5'Ou have 
every thing that your heart can desire, and as 
many lovers as there are grains of sand in the 
sea, if you are not yet contented, it must be some 
love-affair. And, since the discussion at Frohn’s 
funeral ” — 

“Well, go on,” said Wally hoarsely. 

“ Since that affair, the people have made up 
their minds that Joseph is the only man you 
wish in the Oetz Valley, and that he will not be 
caught.” 


172 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


As he spoke, he cast a fiery glance at Wally, 
who was wounded to the quick. She was obliged 
to stand still, and lean her forehead against the 
trunk of a tree, her blood fiowed through her 
arteries so rapidly. 

“If this is true, if they say this of me,*' 
moaned she ; but she could not finish her sen- 
tence ; her brain fairly reeled. 

Vincenz allowed her time to recover her breath. 
He well appreciated the blow this would be to 
her ; for he knew her pride. After a pause, he 
said, “ You see, this is why I think you should 
go to the dance with me : it would be the best 
way to stop their talking. ’’ 

Wally drew herself up, “ You know very well 
that I will go to the dance with no man, unless 1 
intend to marry him.’’ 

“ I should think, that, if I were in your place, 
I would rather marry Gellner Vincenz than be- 
come an old maid out of love for Hagenbach,” 
continued Vincenz sharply. 

Wally looked at him with newly aroused re- 
pugnance. “I cannot understand why you are 
not tired of persisting, when you know that it is 
useless.” 

“ Wally, I ask 3"ou now, for the last time. 
Can 3^ou not accustom yourself to the idea of 
having me for a husband? ” 

“Never, never! I will sooner die,” said 
Wally. 

White spots arose on Vincenz’ sallow com- 
plexion, near his high cheek-bones. He looked 
almost like the hawk, as he glanced sidewaj’s at 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYBOL. 173 


Wally, as on a hopeless prey. “ I am sorry, 
Wally; but I must tell you something which I 
would rather have spared you. You force me to 
do it. I have allowed you one year’s time : 
now it must be.” He drew from his pocket a 
piece of paper, on which some words were writ- 
ten. “ It will soon be twelve months since your 
father’s death ; and, if you do not marry me at 
the end of the year, you forfeit your right to the 
high-farm.” 

Wally stared at him. 

He unfolded the paper. “ Here is your father’s 
will, in which he says, that, unless you marry me 
in twelve months after his death, the high-farm, 
and all appertaining thereunto, falls to my lot, 
and you inherit onty that part of his inheritance 
which he cannot by law take from you. This 
will put an end to the proud high-peasant. So 
far, no one knows any thing about it. You can now 
reflect upon this ; and I fancy that you will rather 
give in at last than allow me to go to the judge, 
and prove this will.” Wally stood still, and 
with a single glance, full of contempt, measured 
Vincenz from head to foot. She then said with 
great composure, “ Oh, you poor fellow ! So you 
thought to catch the Geier- Wally in this trap, 
did 3^ou ? It is like both you and my father ; 
but you neither of you knew me. What do I 
care for money and property? that which I crave 
cannot be purchased with it ; and therefore I am 
indifferent to it. I will pack up my things on 
Monday, and go away again ; for I will not be 
your guest, no, not for an hour. Although I 


174 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


regret the high-farm, for I was born there, I was 
no happier as its mistress than where I watched 
the cattle. I am a stranger here as well as there. 
It is better for me to go as far away from this 
neighborhood as possible.” 

She turned quietly, and walked towards the 
house. Vincenz was now overcome with wild 
despair. He threw himself before her, and clung 
to her knee. “I did not mean this. You are 
not to go away. For God’s sake, do not accuse 
me of such a thought. What do I want with the 
high-farm ? I only meant — Oh, my God ! I have 
tried every thing.” He held on to Wally with 
one hand, and, with the other, he raised the paper 
to his mouth, and tore it in pieces with his teeth. 
“ There, there ! look, there it is. I do not want 
the high-farm without you. There, there ! ” scat- 
tering the fragments of the will to the winds. 
“ I wish nothing, absolutely nothing : only do not 
leave here ! ’ ’ 

Wally gazed at him with amazement. “I am 
very sorry for you, Vincenz ; but I cannot help 
you any more than I am helped. Keep the 
high-farm, and all belonging to it. Did not my 
father leave it to 3^ou? That fact remains, al- 
though the will is destroyed. I will accept no 
gift from you. As it is, I am only here on suf- 
ferance : what more shall I wait for ? The people 
are not suited to me, or I to them. I will take 
my Hansel, and go up on the hills again. I 
belong there. But one favor I ask, — tell no 
one, until my departure, that the high-farm is no 
longer mine ; for you know I can endure ail, but 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 175 


that the people should rejoice over my ill-luck. 
That, that enrages me. Think of their pleasure 
and their mockery when the proud Stromminger 
Wally is obliged to leave her inheritance and 
property like a maid-servant. I could not sur- 
vive it. Allow me, at least, to depart as the 
high-peasant.” 

“Wally,” cried Vincenz, “if you really do 
this, I will go with you. You cannot prevent 
me from going ‘ whither thou goest.' The roads 
are open to all : whoever chooses can walk on 
them.” 

Wally looked at him with horror, as he stood 
before her in his excitement ; and she shuddered 
as though an evil spirit had attached itself to her 
footsteps. “ What will be the result of this? ” 
murmured she hopelessly. 

At that instant the messenger from Soldeii 
came out of the house, across the Matten, to 
Wall}". He wore a large bunch of flowers in his 
hat, and was arrayed in his Sunday-clothes, as 
if for a wedding. 

“He has cocne to invite you to Joseph and 
Afra’s wedding ; ” and Vincenz laughed fiercely. 

Wally stumbled over some obstacle in the road, 
and stretched out her hands towards Vincenz, 
who caught her by the waist, and supported her. 

Meanwhile, the messenger approached, and 
doffed his hat before Wally. “ God bless you, 
high-peasant ! I come from Joseph Hagenbach, 
who invites you to the dance on the feast-day of 
St. Paul and St. Peter. If you agree to it, he 
will fetch you at noon, and take you across to 


176 GEIEB-WALLY; 

the Stag Inn. You are to give me an an- 
swer.” 

If heaven had at that moment opened its gates 
to Wally, and Vincenz had caught sight of hell, 
they could not have felt differently. And so 
there was no truth in the report about Afra : he 
came to Wally, — came after five years of suffer- 
ing and anguish. At last, at last! The word 
was spoken ; the winds carried it joyfully farther 
on ; and the breezes brought it back. The white 
peaks glittered in the distance. Joseph, the 
bear-slayer, invited the Geier-Wally to accompany 
him to the dance ! The people in the field 
shouted joyfulty ; the hay-wagons got under way ; 
the vulture on the roof flapped its wings for joy, 
that those who belonged to each other were finally 
to become united. 

Let all the earth rejoice: the race of giants 
arises anew in this one couple! And smiling 
graciousl}^, like a queen under a crown of myrtle- 
leaves, Wally bowed her head, and said almost ; 
shyly to the messenger, that she would await j 
Joseph. 

Vincenz leaned against a tree, despised, re- 
jected, silent, — a ghost of the past. 

Wally cast on him a look of pit}^ She no ^ 
longer feared him. She was saved: no one 
could say any thing more about her ! She has- ' 
tened home : and the people followed her, marvel- 
ling, her expression was so full of jo3^ But she 
could not remain at home. Taking some money, 
she distributed it thi’ough the village, like a be- 
nevolent fairy. She entered into every miserable 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 177 

hut, dispensing her gifts lavishly, but only that 
to which she had a right ; for she had given up 
the high-farm to Vincenz, beyond recall. She was 
still wealthy enough to prepare a glorious exist- 
ence for Joseph and all about her ; for even her 
inheritance, for most people, would have been a 
fortune. She had to do good to every one. She 
could not endure alone the unknown, immeasur- 
able bliss which she now experienced. 

The two days which elapsed before the feast- 
day were like a fairy-tale to the entire village. 

No one recognized the Geier-Wally again, al- 
ways so gloomy and harsh, in the happy maiden 
who flitted in and out of the houses as though 
borne on invisible wings. This one sunbeam 
was required ; and the blossom crushed b}^’ the 
hail, and half killed by the frost, began to bloom 
anew. In her suppressed heart existed a power 
for love as for hate, for joy as for pain, for sac- 
rifice as for defiance. Her whole surroundings 
seemed to gain new life, as though a curse had 
been taken from them, since Wally’s gloomy, 
angry spirit had fled, which had oppressed them 
like a thunder-cloud. 

“ When any one is as happy as I am, every 
one should be made to rejoice,” said she; and 
it was soon proclaimed that Wally was so altered, 
on account of Joseph’s having bidden her to 
the dance, which meant as much as an offer 
of marriage in that region. Why should she 
deny it ? was it not to take place shortly ? Why 
should she deny that she loved him earnestly, 
above every one? Did he not deserve it? And 
12 


178 


GEIEB -WALLY; 


he must love her in return, or he would not be 
coming to lead her out to the dance. It was a 
great blessing that she was able to give vent 
to her feelings. When she met a child, she 
would take it up in her arms, and tell it how 
Joseph was coming to her on the feast-day, — the 
great bear-killer, and the man who had saved 
little Liesel from the bull ; and they would then 
be surprised by his beautiful figure. They had 
never seen any one like him ; and there was no 
one else like "him in the entire world. The chil- 
dren were much interested, and played bear, and i 
Joseph the bear-killer, all day long. And then 
she laughed with Hansel, and warned it, “ You 
will have to behave when Joseph comes, or I will 
have to do something to you.” Klettenmaier and 
the favorite servants received new clothes for the 
feast. They all understood the reason ; and 
Wally allowed them 'to discuss her affairs, and 
did not interfere. 

She now sat silently in her chamber, and spent 
hours in communion with her own thoughts. 
How had it all happened? Why had Joseph so 
suddenly changed his mind ? And, the more she 
refiected, the less she realized the unhoped-for 
happiness which had all at once come to her 
so richly and fulty. She no longer gazed angiily 
at her saints ; but, on the contrary, her glance lin- i 
gered lovingly on them, and she gave thanks 
that they had finally taken thought for her. As ' | 
she noticed the cards still nailed above her bed, i j 
she laughed, “Well, what do you say now? 
After all, you knew nothing about it ! ” And like 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 179 

banished spirits, who are unable to conjure up 
any new wonders by the magic of their wand, 
the secrets and mysteries of the future stared at 
her from the face of these mute signs. Had 
Luckard still been alive, she might have read the 
answer of the cards to Wally’s questions ; but, 
as it was, they were as incomprehensible as a 
writing in cipher to which the key has been lost. 
How Luckard would have rejoiced to have seen 
this day ! Wally would have liked to pass the 
time in sleep until the dawn of St. Paul and 
St. Peter’s Hay. This was, however, out of the 
question. Owing to her impatience, she never 
closed her eyes by day or by night. She was 
always counting, “ Still so many hours, so many 
hours more ! ’ ’ 

The day finally arrived. After her morning 
repast, Wally retired to her room to dress and 
array herself. Once more, she became a woman, 
a maiden. Once more she stood before her 
mirror, adorned herself, and wondered if she 
were beautiful, and if she would please Joseph. 
She had again sent for a new belt, handsomer 
than the first, with head ornaments of filagree- 
work. The case stood before her on her table ; 
and, taking out her trinkets, she fastened them to 
her bodice. The new silver was as white as her 
pure white folded sleeves, and tinkled like many 
wedding-chimes. A subdued, rosy light shone 
thi’ough the pink dimitj^ curtain, and covered the 
splendid figure with a soft glow of nuptial happi- 
ness. 

When she was finished, she took from the case 


180 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


a meerschaum pipe, heavily inlaid with silver, 
handsomer than any belonging to the peasants, 
far or near, — a beautiful piece of workmanship ; 
but she held it in her hand for some time, hesitat- 
ing if it were worthy of Joseph. 

Again she drew something slowly out of the 
box, almost timidly, glancing hastily towards the 
door, to see if it were well bolted. It was a 
small round case ; and in it lay — a ring. She 
quivered as she took it in her hand ; and a tear 
of unspeakable joy and gratitude arose in her 
eye. She closed her hands over it ; and for the 
first time in many months her knees were bent, 
and she was impelled by some unknown force 
to pray over the ring which was to unite her to 
the dearly loved man forever. 

She no longer heard the rustle of her silli 
skirt, or the tinkling of the small silver orna- 
ments: she prayed earnestly, and with^intense 
fervor. She drew near to God with the impetu- 
osity of a thankful child to whom a father has 
just granted its dearest wish. 

“ There is no end to the dressing of our mis- 
tress to-day,” said the maids outside, as Wally 
did not appear. 

The peasants were already on the way to the 
Stag Inn.. Whoever was able to walk, and pos- 
sessed a holiday dress, took part in the festivi- 
ties ; for the whole village was in a state of 
suspense over the great event. The high-peasant 
was to be led out to the dance by Hagenbach. 

The roads were crowded with people ; and the 
proprietor of the Stag Inn had taken great pains, 
and sent to Triest for musicians. 


OBy A TALE OF THE TYROL. 181 


The head servant-girl stood above, at the dormer- 
window, looking out on the road by which Joseph 
would arrive. 

Wally was arrayed, and stood ready in her 
chamber. Her heart beat like hammers ; her 
cheeks were flushed ; her hands icy cold ; and she 
pressed the white hankerchief on her heart, which 
she held in her hand. It was the one used by her 
mother on her wedding-day. 

She had concealed the ring and Joseph’s pipe 
in her pocket. She waited patiently for the 
minutes to elapse ; and this quiet waiting, in 
which she nearly lost her temper, was probably 
the most trying moment of her life. 

“They come, they come!” cried the maid 
from her upper window, — “Joseph and many 
other men, from S olden and Zwieselstein. The 
innkeeper from Zwieselstein is among them. It 
is a reghlar procession.” 

i All in the farm drew near ; and the noise of 
rthe people approaching reached Wally in her 
I room. She now came out ; and all burst into an 
I exclamation of admiration as she appeared. 

! The procession entered the gate at that moment, 
headed by Joseph. 

ij She went forward to meet him, modestly, but 
■[ beaming with the pride of a bride who ' is proud 
of her bridegi’oom, — proud to be the choice of 
such a man. 

t “ Joseph, is it you? ” said she ; and her voice 
was soft and lovely, as it had never been before. 
8 Joseph glanced at her almost shyly, and very 
(Strangely, and then fastened his eyes on the 
ground. 


182 


GEIEB -WALLY; 


Wally started. Was it intentional, or merely 
an accident? Joseph wore his black cock-feather 
upside down, as the men did before a quarrel. 
To-day, however, it must have been an over- 
sight. 

Every one surrounded her and watched her. 
She had gi’own so embarrassed, that she could no 
longer speak; and he was also silent. She 
looked at him with an expression of deep ear- 
nestness ; but he avoided her gaze. He felt, j 
probably, as strangely as she did. 

“ Come,” said he at last, ofiering her his hand. 
Placing her own in his, they walked silently j 
towards the inn. The strangers and servants j 
followed in the procession. 

As often, when we have looked into the sun, i 
even in broad daylight, all seems dark to us, so ; 
did it become suddenly obscure in Wally’s soul, ; 
in the midst of her happiness. She could not 
account for it ; but she was bewildered, and no i 
longer herself. All was quite different from what 
she had anticipated. 

On entering the inn, they were welcomed by a! 
gay Idndler. And, as she walked past the people i 
by Joseph’s side, she heard them say, “There is^ 
no handsomer couple in the world than those 
two.” I 

She now noticed how many strangers had 
accompanied Joseph ; and all her rejected lovers 
were present. Wally compared them secretly j 
with Joseph ; and she could truly say that not one | 
of them could come up to Joseph in power and j 
beauty. He was king among the peasants. A j 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 183 


man of quite another stamp, not to be mentioned 
in the same breath with the men of usual size 
who stood about them. 

She allowed her eye to rest on him for a second 
with ecstasy, and measured him from his broad 
chest down to his well-built knees and legs. 
Whoever now saw him must understand that she 
wished him, and him only. 

Raising her head, she encountered the glance 
of two bright black eyes fixed like daggers on 
Joseph. It was Vincenz, who was wedged in 
among the crowd ; and not far ofi* was another 
sorrowful face, — that of Benedict Klotz, who 
was watching her thoughtfully. As she passed 
by him, Benedict held her back for an instant, 
and whispered in her ear, “Take care, Wally. 
They are meditating something against you : I 
do not know what. But I am convinced that this 
will not end well.” 

Wally shrugged her shoulders slightly. Who 
could harm her as long as she was with Joseph? 

They now prepared for the dance. Wally and 
Joseph were to lead off alone, as they wished to 
see them together. No couple had ever before 
been so jealousty regarded as these two hand- 
some, favored beings. 

Joseph here left Wally’s side, and stood almost 
solemnly before her. 

“ Wally,” said he loudly, and the music ceased, 
at a sign given by the innkeeper, who' followed 
him closely, “ I hope, that, before the dance, you 
intend to give me the kiss which none of your 
lovers have been able to obtain of you.” 


184 


GEIER-WALLY; 


Wally blushed, and said softly, “But not here, 
Joseph, before the people ! ” 

Exactly liere^ before all the people!^' said 
Joseph emphatically. 

For a second Wally hesitated between her 
wish and her pride. To embrace a man before 
the whole world required great courage for a mod- 
est and pure girl. But there he stood, the dearly- 
loved man. That moment, for which she would 
have sacrificed a year of her life, would even 
have given up her entire existence gladly, had 
arrived ; and would she reject it on account of a 
few observers, who could not blame her for kiss- 
ing her bridegroom ? 

She raised her lovely face towards him, and 
his eyes were nailed for a moment to her full 
fresh lips as they drew closer to his own ; and 
then, pushing her softly, involuntarily, away from 
him, said in a low voice, “Not so. No true 
hunter kills his game unless it is on the wing, as 
I once before told j^ou. I will fight with you for 
the kiss : I will not receive it as a gift. And, 
were I a maiden like you, I would not give m}^- 
self away so easily. Beware, Wally ! Do not 
make it less diflScult for me than for the others, 
or it will bring me no honor ! ’’ 

A flush of shame suffused Wally’s face. She 
would have liked the earth to open, and swallow 
her. Had she, then, so far forgotten herself, that 
she had to be reminded of what she owed herself 
by a wooer? All grew red before her eyes. It 
seemed as if a wave of blood had rushed over 
her. 


OE, A TALE OF THE TTEOL. 185 


Drawing herself up, she measured him from 
head to foot with a glance of rage. 

“ You are right,’’ cried she. “ It shall he as 
you say. You shall learn to know the Geier- 
Wally. Take care, and see now, whether the kiss 
is yours!” 

She was nearly stifled. Tearing off her neck- 
erchief, she stood there in her velvet bodice 
embroidered in silver, and her linen waist, so 
that Joseph gazed at her lovely bare neck in 
amazement. 

“You are beautiful, as beautiful as you are 
bad,” muttered he; and, springing on her as a 
hunter on his prey, he threw his strong arm 
about her neck. But he did not know the Geier- 
Wally. With a sudden jerk, she freed herself 
from his grasp ; and a joyful laugh arose from the 
chests of those who had been equally unfortu- 
nate. It enraged Joseph. He now seized the 
girl round her waist with his arms of iron ; but, 
giving him a tremendous blow, he retreated with 
a cry. Renewed amusement. She always made 
use of this blow ; for she knew its eflScacy, and 
how utterly unable any one was to endure it. 
Joseph, however, swallowed his pain, and, with 
fresh fury, threw himself on the girl. He seized 
her two arms, and in that way attempted to 
approach her lips ; but she quickly slipped aside. 
And now began a breathless struggle amidst per- 
fect silence, broken only by an occasional curse 
from Joseph. The maid wound herself about 
him like a serpent ; so that he always failed to 
reach her mouth. 


186 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


It seemed no longer to be a love-struggle. It 
resembled far more a fight for life and death, 
lie had forced her three times to drop on the 
ground : three times did she spring up. He lifted 
her in his arms, but she always managed to avoid 
his lips. Her linen waist was torn to shreds ; and 
the silver belt was broken in pieces. She sudden- 
ly freed herself from his arms, and fled towards 
the door. He caught her, and drew her towards 
him with a rush. They clung fiercely to each 
other. His breath surrounded her like a warm 
mist. She lay on his breast, and felt his heart 
beating against her own. Her strength forsook 
her ; and, sinking before him on her knees, she 
exclaimed, as though exhausted with anguish, 
shame, and love, “ I am thine ! ” 

‘ ‘ Ah ! ’ ’ and Joseph gasped for breath. ‘ ‘ You 
have all witnessed it?’’ asked he aloud. He 
bent his head, and imprinted a kiss on her quiv- 
ering lips. A hurrah arose on all sides. He 
then raised her up ; and she sank almost uncon- 
sciously on his chest. 

“ Wait ! ” said he firmly, and retreated a step 
or two. “ I need no more : I am satisfied with 
one kiss. You know now that I can master 3^011 ; 
and I desire nothing further.” 

Wally stared at him as though she had not 
understood him. Her face became quite gra^’. 
‘‘Joseph,” stammered she, “why did you come 
for me then ? ’ ’ 

“ Did you imagine I came to woo 3"ou? ” said 
he. “ Lately, at the funeral, jon said , before every 
one, that Afra was my love, because she could be 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 187 


SO easily won; and that Joseph the bear-killer 
had not sufficient courage to fight with the Geier- 
Wally. Did you really suppose that a man 
of honor could permit any such words to be 
spoken about an honest girl and himself? I only 
wished to prove to 5"Ou that I could fight as well 
with you as with the bear, or any other wild 
beast ; and the kiss I have just taken from you I 
shall carry to Afra to make up for the wrong you 
have done her. Now remember this on some 
other occasion, when you are unable to control 
your pride. I hope j-ou will now cease injuring 
poor, honest girls ; for you can now realize how 
it is when one is mocked.” 

A loud laugh burst forth as Joseph ended. 
He turned aside, much annoyed. “You know 
that I have kept my word ; and now I must return 
to Zwieselstein, and comfort Afra ; for she cried 
bitterly, poor little thing ! about this affair with 
tlie high-peasant. God bless you all ! ” 

He departed ; but all followed him, for the sport 
• had been excellent. 

He could not be equalled, — Joseph the slayer 
of the bear. He had vanquished the high-peas- 
ant at last. 

“ It will do her pride good.” 

“ It serves her right.” 

“ Joseph, that is your best deed.” 

“When this is known, no one will want her 
any more.” 

And the rejected lovers laughed in chorus 
about Joseph ; and every one followed him, chat- 
ting joyfully. 


188 


GEIEB -WALLY; 


The dancing-room was deserted. Only two 
people remained with Wally, — Vincenz and Ben- 
edict. Wally stood on the same spot, and did 
not move. She appeared to be lifeless. 

Vincenz watched her with his arms folded. 
Benedict approached her, and touched her arm 
lightly. “Wally, do not take it so to heart! 
We are still here, and will have justice done to 
you. Wally, only say what shall we do? We 
are ready for every thing ; only speak. What is it 
you wish? ’’ 

She moved ; and her large eyes glittered ghost- 
like. Her face was as pale as death. Opening and 
closing her lips, as though unable to utter a word, 
owing to her want of breath, she finally burst out 
into a shriek, which came forth from her inner- 
most heart, “ I wish him killed ! ’’ 

Benedict started. “ Wally, may the Lord pre- 
serve you 1 

Vincenz, however, drew near to her with hash- 
ing eyes. “ Wally, are you in earnest? 

‘ ‘ Truly I am. ’ ’ She raised her hand as though 
to swear. That hand was stiff and paralyzed, 
and her nails quite blue, as if ia death. “I will 
marry whoever lays Joseph dead before Afra, as 
truly as I am the Wallbm’ga Strommingerin ! ” 


ORy A TALE OF THE TYROL. 189 


CHAPTER Xn. 

AT NIGHT. 

CONSTANT and strange moaning was 
heard through the quiet high-farm, as it 
lay wrapped in silence during the whole 
night. The maids were at times aroused 
from their slumbers, and could not discover 
whence the noise came ; but they soon fell asleep 
again. The boards creaked ; and the beams were 
shaken slightly and continually. 

It was Wally, who wandered heavily up and 
down, without ceasing, struggling, for the last 
time, with her broken heart, about her fate, her- 
self, and God’s providence. Her clothes were 
torn to pieces : St. Wallburga, her crucifix, and 
other images, lay in broken fragments about her. 
She had destroyed all in her unconscious fury. 

She was half undressed ; and her hair fell over 
her shoulders in wild disorder. A red light 
burned low in her candlestick ; and, in the fitful 
shadow, the features of the broken head of our 
Saviour seemed to become animated. In her 
excitement she stopped before it. “Yes, smile 
away ! you think I am a fool, and none of 
yours. You are images of wood and stone, and 
cannot help any one. You hear neither prayer 
nor curse. And those you pretend to represent 
are, God knows where, laughing at us, if they 




190 


GEIER -WALLY; 


see us kneeling before a block of wood.** And 
she knocked the fragments under her bed to 
enable her to continue her walk undisturbed. 

A shot was heard in the distance. Wally 
paused and listened. All was silent. She had 
probably been mistaken. Why did the noise 
startle her so ? She did not even know if it had 
been a shot. Like a flash of lightning, she 
thought, “ If Vincenz had just killed Joseph! ** 
But was not that impossible? Joseph must now 
be quietly at home, or, perchance, near Afra, in 
Zwieselstein. 

In distress at the thought, she knocked her 
head against the wall ; and visions arose be- 
fore her, driving her almost mad. Oh 1 if he 
were only dead ; she would then be free from any 
such torment. She threw open her window to 
let in some air. 

Hansel, asleep on the window-sill, awoke, and 
flew drowsily towards her. “Oh, my own!*’ 
cried Wally, drawing it to her heart; for it was 
her only possession, her only interest in the world. 

There ! a second shot ; and, this time, it came 
plainly from the direction of Zwieselstein. Drop- 
ping her hawk, she placed her hand hastily on her 
heart, as though she herself had been wounded. 

Why this alarm ? Suddenly the horrible oath 
which she had sworn the day before arose in her 
mind. She could onl}^ think, that perhaps the 
explosion which had just reached her ears had 
struck J oseph ; and a wild , crazy joy stole over her. 
Now he was hers only. No one else could re- 
ceive his kisses. And, as she thus reflected, she 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 191 

imagined it all to have taken place. Slie saw 
him bathed in his own blood on the ground. She 
knelt by his side, taking his head in her lap. 
She kissed his face, his beautiful pale face. 
She saw it distinctly before her. All at once a 
feeling of pity for the poor dead man overcame 
her, — a deep, unspeakable pity. She called him 
by all the tender names she could remember. 
She shook him, rubbed him, all in vain : he 
would never again return to life. A terrible 
dread seized her. No, no ! that must not be : 
he should not die : she would far rather perish. 

Her heart seemed until now to have been en- 
tirely paralyzed. No human blood appeared to 
have flowed through her veins, when, all at once, 
the floods were opened, and the warm stream 
found its way again to her heart. She must go 
forth, and see if Vincenz were at home. She 
must speak to him before dawn. She must tell 
him that such an awful deed must be left undone. 
She was in a fever : all her pulses beat. She had 
desired it, commanded it ; but the thought of its 
really happening quieted her anger, and she for- 
gave all. 

Throwing a shawl over her shoulders, she has- 
tened across the yard, through the gardens, to 
Vincenz’ abode. What would he, and what would 
the world, say ? Ah ! she was indiflerent to them. 
What did she now care for their remarks ? 

She reached the house. A light burned in 
Vincenz’ room, on the ground-floor. She crept 
up to it. She could peep through the window. 
The curtains were raised. She became breathless. 


192 


GEIER-WALLT; 


The room was empty, the light burning very low. 
She went around the house. The door was not 
locked. She opened it softly, and entered. All 
was silent as in death. The household was not 
yet awake. She wandered through the house : 
no one stiiTed. Vincenz had departed. She grew 
as cold as ice. In his bedroom he had evidentlj^ 
been in his bed for a short time. His Sunday 
clothes were hanging on the nail ; but his work- 
day clothes were gone. His hat, also, was missing. 
She searched through the sitting-room. The peg 
on which his rifle usually hung was empty. 

Wally stood there, unable to move a muscle. 
She never knew how ^ she left the house. She 
dropped down on a bench by the door, unable to 
raise her feet again. She tried to comfort her- 
self. Restless as he was, he had probably gone in 
pursuit of some wild beast. What harm could 
he now do Joseph, sound asleep somewhere ? 

It was her bad conscience which suggested 
these dreadful thoughts ; and she buried her face 
in her hands. “Wally, Wally, how you have 
changed!’’ Scorned, mocked, abased before 
men, and a murderess in God’s sight I Where 
could water enough be found to cleanse her? 
The Ache rushed on below her : it could wash her 
clean, if she cast herself down into this cold 
stream. All would be clear, — her grief and 
her sin. The miserable object, created only for 
terror and battle, all at once destroyed, all ended I 
Yes, this was salvation 1 Why did she still hesi- 
tate ? She would destroy this useless temple in 
which her soul was imprisoned. She sprang up ,* 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYBOL. 193 


but she could not proceed any farther. She sank 
again on her seat. Did this crushed and wounded 
heart still cling to life? There, God be praised ! 
a footstep was heard : it was Vincenz ! Now 
she could speak to him, all might be retrieved. 

“Ye saints ! ” cried Vincenz as she met him. 
“You 1iere9” He looked at her like a ghost. 
Wally saw, by the light of early dawn, that he was 
pale and nervous. His gun was on his shoulder. 

“ Vincenz,’’ said she softly, “ have you killed 
any thing? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ What? ” She looked into his game-bag : it 
was empty. 

“ Venison,” whispered he. 

Wally trembled. “ Where is it? ” 

“ He lies in the Ache.” 

Wally seized his arm : her eyes were fixed on 
him wildly. “ Who? ” 

“ Do you ask? ” 

“ Joseph? ” cried Wally, and fell back against 
the wall. 

“ It was hard work,” said Vincenz, wiping his 
forehead. “ I never supposed he would come in 
my way so soon. The Devil knows why he was 
out so late at night. I thought I would rise early, 
so as to be in Solden in the morning, before he 
could rise ; and he stood before me almost imme- 
diately. But it was too dark. My first ball 
missed him : the second only grazed him. He 
must have been giddy, though ; for he staggered 
on the ledge, and clung to the rock. I made use 
of that moment, came behind him, and threw him 
over the precipice.” 

13 


194 


GEIEB -WALLY; 


Wally’s moan, as he ended these words, 
sounded like the rattle in a dead man’s throal^; 
and* like a vulture pouncing on its prey did she 
throw herself on Vincenz, and seize him by his 
throat with both her hands. “ You lie ! Vincenz, 
you lie ! It is not true : it cannot be ! Tell me 
that it is not true, or I will strangle you.” 

“ By my soul, it’s true ! Did you suppose that 
Vincenz would hesitate in doing any thing for 
you?” 

“ Murder, cowardly, wicked mm’der,” sobbed 
Wally, trembling all over. “ I did not wish it 
to be done in such a dastardly, malicious, and 
base manner. I meant him to die in a lawful 
fight. May j^ou be cursed forever and in all 
eternity, — cursed on all sides ! What shall I do 
to you ? You should be torn in pieces with teeth 
and nails ! ’ ’ 

“ And so this is all the thanks I receive,” 
muttered Vincenz. “ Did jon not tell me to do 
it?” 

“ And if I did tell you — so, so — were you, 
therefore, compelled to obey me?” said Wally 
feverishly. “ One often says things in anger, 
which one afterwards repents. Could j^ou not 
have waited for me to have recovered my compo- 
sure after that dreadful struggle? Joseph, Jo- 
seph, I am wicked and wild; but I am not a 
murderess ! Oh, had you only waited for a few 
hours ! But you were full of jealousy and wick- 
edness, and were unable to wait, for fear of 
losing your bad impulse.” 

‘‘ That’s right ! Blame me for all ! ” said Vin- 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 195 

cenz angrily. “ And you are as much in fault as 
I am.’’ 

“Yes,” said Wally, “I know it; and I will 
have my revenge. There can be no pity between 
us. Here is an opportunity for blood against 
blood,” muttered she, seizing Vincenz by the 
collar, and dragging him behind her. 

“ Wally, let me go ! What do you want? Good 
God ! is this your gratitude ? Have mercy ! 
Wally, you are stifling me! Where are you 
dragging me to? ” 

“ Where we both belong,” was the hollow an- 
swer ; and she continued on her way, as though 
impelled by a gust of wind, to the top of the 
hill, until they reached the path leading to the 
Ache, where the deed had been done. ‘ ‘ Down 
there!” were the terrible words she uttered, — 
“ we two together ! ” 

“ Holy Virgin ! ” cried Vincenz, horror strick- 
en. “ You swore to become my wife after I had 
done the deed ; and now you want to kill me ? ” 

Wally again laughed scornfully. “You fool! 
If I throw myself down with you, are we not 
united forever? What, do you still intend to 
struggle for your miserable existence?” And, 
clasping him in her arms with her gigantic 
strength, she drew him to the narrow rail on the 
bridge to cast him down into the dark depths at 
the same time as herself. 

‘ ‘ Help ! ’ ’ screamed Vincenz involuntarily, 
and “help!” The answer was weak, almost 
ghostly, like an echo from below. 

Wally stood as if turned to stone, and dropped 


196 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


Vincenz. What was that? Was it a spectre? 
“ Did you hear that? she then asked Vincenz. 

“It was the echo,” stammered he; and his 
teeth chattered. 

“ Be quiet ! There it is again ! ” 

“ Help ! ” The voice seemed to come from the 
abyss. 

“All good spirits! it is he. Ho lives I He 
must be hanging on to something ! He calls I 
Yes, I am coming, Joseph! Wait, Joseph, I am 
coming ! ” cried she loudly, as though a trumpet 
were sounding through the valley ; and, running 
through the village, she roused every one. ‘ ‘ Help, 
help! some one has been injured. Save him! 
help us ! for God’s sake, and out of mercy. 
Some one is hanging between life and death.” 

The cry of alarm spread everywhere. Every 
window was thrown up. What is it? What do 
you want? ” 

“Joseph Hagenbach is in the chasm,” cried 
Wall3% “Rope! Bring rope! Hasten, oh, has- 
ten ! it may already be too late, too late when 
we reach there.” 

She ran like the wind before them to the farm, 
and gathered in the barn every piece of rope she 
could find, tying them together ; but, although 
she continued her labor, she could not collect 
rope enough to reach the depths where he la}^, 
God knew where and how. 

Meanwhile the men appeared, half incredulous, 
half horrified by the dreadful news, bringing with 
them ropes, hooks, and lanterns ; for the daylight 
seemed on this morning to be very late in break- 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 197 

ing. They were utterly helpless ; and many ques- 
tions were asked, and much advice given ; for, 
in the recollection of men, no one had been unfor- 
tunate enough to have fallen over the precipice. 
And up here they were not provided with any 
means of assistance, as they were farther down, 
and in other places, where human beings every 
year perish in the deep clefts and precipices, or 
on the giddy heights. 

They finally reached the scene of the accident ; 
and even the coolest man amongst them shud- 
dered with horror as thej^ leaned over the rail, 
and tried to pierce the gloom, through which they 
could distinguish nothing but the mist hanging 
over the roaring torrent. Vincenz had disap- 
peared. Near and far all was deserted, and still 
as death. Wally screamed aloud ; and the hills 
resounded. They hearkened eagerly and breath- 
lessly. No answer. 

“ Joseph, where are you?” cried she again; 
and, in that cry, all the sulferings and groans of 
humanity seemed to be concentrated. All was 
silent. 

“He does not reply: he is dead,” sobbed 
Wally, throwing herself on the ground in utter 
hopelessness. “ All is over now I ” 

“ Perhaps he is only faint, or so weak that he 
cannot answer,” said old Klettenmaier in a com- 
forting voice ; and he whispered at the same 
moment, “ High-peasant : remember the people !” 

She arose, and smoothed her hair on Iier fore- 
head. “Tie the rope^ together. Do not stand 
there so helplessly. What are you waiting for? ” 


198 


GEIEB -WALLY; 


The men exchanged doubting glances. “We 
must try and find him,” said Klettenmaier. 

They began to join the rope, shaking their heads 
as they worked. 

“ Who is to be let down by this rope? ” 

“Who?” said Wally; and her bright eyes 
shone out of her pale face. “ I will do it.” 

“ You, Wally ! Have you taken leave of your 
senses? This will hardly bear one person, much 
less two.” 

“ It need only bear one,” said Wally quietly, 
and assisted them in their task. “It is impos- 
sible, Wally. You must bind both yourself and 
him with it ; and how are you to get up ? said her 
companions, dropping their arms, discouraged. 
“ There is not rope enough, unless we send 
meanwhile to the village for more.” 

“ And during that time, if he lose his con- 
sciousness, he will be precipitated to the bottom 
of the ravine; and it will be too late,” cried 
Wally in despair. “I will not wait till they 
return. Give it to me : let out the rope, and let 
us see its length ! Unroll it ! Make haste ! ’ ’ 
She shook out the coil, and proved its length and 
strength. The men involuntarily worked with a 
will. They untwisted the mighty coil, and began 
to see their way clear. Men drew near to form a 
line, and drop the rope. “After all, it might 
reach the bottom ; but it cannot bear two people.” 
If it cannot hold two, then you can draw him up 
alone. Wherever he can lie, I can stand. As 
soon as I gain my footing, I will untie the rope, 
and bind it round his waist. Then you must draw 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 199 


him up ; and, in the mean time, I will wait until 
you again drop the rope.” 

“ That will not do. He cannot come up alone ; 
for, should he be feeble and faint, he might be 
knocked and torn to pieces, were he without some 
one to protect him from the edge of the rocks.” 

Wally stood as though thunderstruck. She 
had not thought of that. Her attempt must fail. 
She would not reach him, perhaps, until he were 
below, in the cold bed of the Ache. Two could 
not be dragged up : she herself realized that to 
be an impossibility. In spite of her excitement, 
she stood before them now, dignified and com- 
manding in her resolution. She tied the rope 
about her, and took her alpenstock in her hand. 
“In God’s name,” said she at last, “let me 
down, that I may at all events search for him ! 
If I find him, I will stay by him, and hold him 
up until you can obtain rope enough, and drop it. 
I will patiently wait down below, even if I had 
to hang between earth and sky until it came.” 

Old Klettenmaier now fell on his knees before 
her. “Wally, Wally, do not do it! They all 
say that the coil is not safe. If it must be, let 
me go down. Who cares for my old life? If I 
am of no other use, let me test the strength of the 
rope ; and, if it gives way, it will only be Kletten- 
maier, and not you, who will perish.” 

“Yes, Wally, listen to him,” said another. 
“ He is right : dp not do it I Wait, reflect, until 
help comes from the other place.” 

Wally here raised her arms ; and every one drew 
back. “ When I was a child, I did not reflect 


200 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


before fetching the vulture from its nest above the 
abyss ; and now am I to reflect where Joseph is 
concerned f Do not oppose me. I will, I must, 
go to him ! Take hold, draw near, unroll it, hold 
on ! ” And she sprang off the bridge. The men 
holding her up had great difficult}^ in resisting her 
strength ; for the strain on the rope was tremen- 
dous. 

“ God be with us ! said Klettenmaier, cross- 
ing himself, and ran off, as though something were 
suggested to him by Wally’s last words. All eyes 
followed her with dismay, as she sank slowly into 
the sea of mist, until it enveloped her, and closed 
over her, perhaps forever. Silent as the gi-ave 
did the people stand around the spot where she 
had disappeared. The tightly-drawn rope alone 
bore signs of the movements of the brave diver 
in the sea of clouds ; and all eyes are fixed on 
it. Will it give way ? Will it bear ? As every 
coil unwound itself, each heart beat more rapidly" : 
“Will it hold?” 

The sweat arose on the foreheads of the men 
sustaining her ; and unconsciously they tested each 
knot as it untwisted ; for a human lite depended 
on it. The minutes went by slowly and painfully, 
as though bound by an invincible might. The 
rope still drew, and moved here and there : she 
cannot yet have reached the ground. 

“ It is nearly out ! ” cried the last man. “ It 
is not long enough ! ” 

“Holy Virgin, be with us!” cried they all 
together. “ It is not long enough ! ” 

There are only a few yards of it left, and still 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 201 


no sign from below of having reached the bottom. 
The men press as near as possible to the edge, 
and let out as much of the rope as they can. If 
it were not long enough ; if poor 'Wally were again 
drawn up to undertake once more the dangerous 
expedition ! 

Now, now, the rope is suddenly loosened : it 
hangs slackly. What a terrible moment ! Has it 
snapped ? or has it borne its burden to its goal ? 

The women pray aloud; the children weep. 
The men commence to wind up the rope, but 
soon it resists their efforts. It has not given 
way : it holds. Wally has gained her foothold. 
And now — hearken ! A loud cry from below, 
and all join in an anxious reply. Again the rope 
slackens : thej^ wind it up. The same thing is 
twice repeated. Wally must be climbing up high- 
er. Day has meanwhile dawned ; but a fine rain 
is falling, and the fog grows more and more dense. 
The rope suddenly takes an oblique direction : 
the strain is more to the right. The men follow 
it, and cross to the right-hand side of the bridge. 
Wall}^ appears to be ascending higher : they are 
obliged to wind up more of the coil. “Thanks 
be to God ! ’’ said a few : “he cannot have fallen 
so far down. If he is lying higher up, he may 
still live.” “ She may be only looking for him,” 
said the others. The rope is jerked, and suddenly 
loosened ; and a thrilling cry is heard. 

“It is true,” said they softly. 

No, it tightens again : it might have been a cry 
of joy : perhaps she has found him ! The women 
sink on their knees : even the men pray ; for, al- 


202 


GEIEE-WALLY; 


though they hated the high-peasant, every human 
heart beats in fear for the brave girl who is sac- 
rificing her life in the chaos and peril beneath. 
If only a sunbeam would shine through the gloom 
for an instant ! Here they all stand, gazing down 
below, and distinguishing nothing. They are 
obliged to leave every thing to time. 

The rope is tight ; but no sound is heard. Can 
it have snapped, or caught on some rock, while 
Wally is already crushed by the fall? Wh}^ does 
she give no sign, or cry ? And hours may have to' 
elapse before help can be brought from the other 
places. 

No one dares to speak. All listen breathlessly. 
Klettenmaier now appears calling, and making 
signals. 

“ Look here, what I have found ! ” He carries 
on his shoulder an enormous coil of rope, such 
as is used for rescuing people from danger in the 
hills. “ God Almighty be praised ! When they 
alluded to the vulture, I recollected that poor Luck- 
ard had carefull}^ preserved the rope by which 
Stromminger had let down Wall}^ when she went 
after the vulture ; and rightly. I found it in the 
garret, among a heap of odds and ends.” 

‘‘ That is a discovery ! Klettenmaier, God has 
sent you to us ! ” cried they all. 

“ God grant that it may yet serve us ! ” said 
the oldest peasant, looking hopelessly at the life- 
preserving apparatus. “ She has ceased giving 
us any signs.’’ 

“ Some one is pulling the rope! ” cried the 
first man in the line ; and at the same moment 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL, 203 


a voice called up from below (it seemed to be 
quite close ; and all understood it in the complete 
silence), “ Has no rope come yet?” 

“Yes, 3’'es ! ” answered every one joyfullj^ 
An iron hook is attached as anchor to the cable. 
A second line of men is formed ; and it is 
di’opped into the unfathomable deep. The oldest 
peasant takes command ; for, when the two ropes 
are drawn up, it must be done in perfect unison, 
so that Wally may be by the side of the unfortu- 
nate man to hold him up. The rope does not 
drop half as far as Wally did at first, when it is 
caught, and secured. 

“ Loose it ! ” said the peasant ; for Wally must 
have a few yards at her disposal to fasten about 
Joseph’s waist. “ Hold ! ” commanded he ; and 
the men obey him like soldiers, and await farther 
orders. 

Again a few minutes elapsed. She must secure 
and tighten the coil, so that the lifeless body may 
not again be precipitated into the ravine. 

“ Tie it firmly, Wally,” muttered Klettenmaier 
to himself. 

“Yes; if she only binds it securely about 
him,” repeated the people. 

Three times both ropes are pulled together. 
‘ ‘ Draw them up ! ” commanded the peasant ; 
and his voice trembles as he speaks. 

Both lines plant their feet firmly in the ground. 
The veins swell on their arms and foreheads, as, 
well bent over, they draw up the mighty burdens 
with their muscular hands. A terrible undertak- 
ing, full of responsibility. If one gives way, all 
is lost. 


204 


GEIEE-WALLY; 


“ Slowly ! All together ! ” 

It is a solemn moment. Even the children do 
not dare to stir. No sound is heard far or near, 
but the groaus of the men at their serious task. 

Now, — now she appears through the mist. 
Clearly, and ever more clearl}', Wally arises, sus- 
taining the lifeless bod}’. With one of her arms, 
she clings to the rope : with the other hand, she 
presses her alpenstock against the side of the rock 
to protect herself and her charge from the sharp 
edges of the stone. Steering thus evenly, she sails 
through the air. They are there at last, near the 
edge : another pull, and they can be seized. 

“ Steady ! ” ordered the peasant. No one dares 
breathe. The last moment is the hardest of all. 
Suppose the rope should now snap ! 

But no. The first men in the lines grasp them 
securely : those behind hold on to the rope. 

‘ ‘ Lift them up ! ’ ’ say the first. They are raised 
over the ledge. There they are on terra Jirma; 
and the relieved hearts burst into a shout of joy. 
Wally has fallen over Joseph’s lifeless body in a 
state of unconsciousness. She neither sees nor 
hears every one drawing near to her, praising and 
blessing her. She lies with her face on his chest. 
Her strength has left her. 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 205 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE RETURN TO HER FATHER. 



OSEPH is stretched unconsciously on 
Wally’s bed, in Wally’s chamber. All 
is quiet and peaceful about him. Wally 
has sent every one out. She is kneeling 
by the bedside ; and, burying her face in her 
clasped hands, she prays, “ O God, Father 
Almighty, have mercy, and let him live ! Take 
all away from me, all ; but let him live ! I will 
not long for him any more. I will give him up, 
and leave him to Afra : only do not let him 
die ! ” She then arises, and places a fresh band- 
age on the wound from which the blood is ooz- 
ing, and on his chest, jagged bj^ the sharp rock. 
She threw herself on him as though she would 
have closed by her body the opening, out of which 
his life was ebbing. 

‘ ‘ Oh, 3^ou poor fellow, you poor bo}^ ! so in- 
jured, so crushed ! What a sin ! What a sin ! 
Wall}^ Wally, what have you done ! How much 
sooner would you have pierced }^our own heart 
with a knife ! how much sooner would jrou have 
seen him wedded to Afra ! and 3^011 could then 
have gone away and died, instead of seeing him 
now lying here, and watching him die like an 
animal wounded by a butcher.” 

Thus she moaned aloud while binding his 



206 


GEIER-WALLY; 


wounds, and reproved herself inwardly with the 
same harshness that she had formerly used to- 
wards others. Had she been able, she would 
have torn her heart out of her body in her wild 
frenzy. The door opened softly. Wally turned 
round in astonishment ; for she had given orders 
that she wished to be undisturbed. It was the 
rector of Heiligkreuz. Wally stood there as before 
her judge, pale, trembling in her innermost soul. 

“ God be praised ! ” cried the old gentleman. 
“ There he is ! He went up to the bed, looked 
at Joseph, and touched him. “You poor boy! 
you have been hardly treated.’^ 

Wally bit her lips as he spoke, to prevent herself 
crying aloud. 

“ How did you get him up again? ’’ asked the 
priest ; but Wally was unable to answer. 

“ Well, thanks be to God, that, in his mercy, 
it pleased him to save him from the worst ! ’’ con- 
tinued the rector. “ Perhaps he may recover ; and 
then, at all events, you will not have a murder on 
your soul, although, in the sight of the eternal 
Judge, the intention is weighed as well as tiio 
deed.’’ 

Wally tried to speak. 

‘‘I know all,” said he sternly. “Vincenz 
stopped at my house as he ran away ; and he 
confessed all to me, — his love for you and his 
jealousy. I could not grant him absolution ; but 
I sent him to join the pope’s arm}', where he 
may, by his services, gain God’s forgiveness 
through the holy father, or atone for his sin by 
his death. But what am I to do with j^ou, 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 207 


Wally? ” He looked at her piercingly and sadly 
with his sharp eyes. 

Wall3^ raised her hands to her face, crying 
aloud, O 3"our honor ! I am so bitterly punished, 
that no man can punish me more. There lies the 
man whom I loved most in the world ; and he is 
dying. I have to realize that I am responsible 
for it all! Can any misery be greater? Do I 
need any thing more ? ’ ^ 

The priest nodded his head. “And so you 
have done this. You have become a rough log 
of w'ood, which one uses for killing men. All 
has come to pass as I told j^ou. You gave no 
power to God’s knife ; and now he casts you olf, 
and allows the hard wood to burn in the fire of 
repentance.” 

“Yes, your honor, it is so ; but I know where 
to find water to extinguish the fire. If Joseph 
dies, I will throw myself into the Ache. Then 
all will be over.” 

“Oh, you foolish child ! Do you think that this 
fire can be extinguished by earthly water? Do 
3^ou think that 3^ou destroy your undying soul with 
3"our earthly body ? It w’ould exist in the fire of 
everlasting repentance, even if you were covered 
by all the waters of the sea.” 

“ What am I, then, to do? ” said Wally hoarse- 
1 }". “ What can I do, but die? ” 

“ Live and suffer : that is harder than to die.” 

Wally shook her head, glancing wildly about 
her with her dark eyes. “ I cannot, — I feel it, 
— I cannot live : the fairies will throw me over. 
All has happened as I was warned in a dream. 


208 


GELER -WALLY; 


There lies Joseph, mangled and wounded ; and 1 
must follow him. They have decreed it so ; and 
no man can change it.’’ 

“Wally, Wally!” cried the priest, clasping 
his hands in horror. “What are you saying? 
The fairies? What fairies? For Heaven’s sake, 
are we living in an age of heathenism, where 
people believe that their fates are influenced by 
evil spirits ? I will tell you who the fairies are : 
they are your own weaknesses. Had you learned 
to conquer your frightful temper, Joseph would 
not have been cast into the ravine. It is coward- 
ly to lay the blame of one’s own acts on the influ- 
ence of evil powers. God came to us to teach us 
to bear and struggle with our infirmities. W e must 
master and control ourselves, and so we will also 
control the mysterious forces which destroyed 
even the giants of olden time, because the}^ had 
no moral strength with which to contend against 
them. With all your strength, your endurance, 
and your defiance, you will be onlj" a miserable, 
weak girl, until you learn what all simple, earnest 
servants of God know, who daily offer on God’s 
altar their dearest wishes, and rejoice in so doing. 
Did 3^ou possess even a spark of such greatness, 
you would no longer dread the ‘ fairies,’ or pay 
any attention to jrour silly dreams, but rely only 
on your clear, earnest purpose. Reflect a moment, 
if that would not be wiser and more noble.” 

Wally leaned against the bedstead. She seemed 
to be awakened to new life. 

“Yes,” said she shortly and decidedly, and 
crossed her arms over her breast. “You are 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYBOL. 209 

right, your honor. I understand what you mean, 
and I will try.’’ 

‘ ‘ I will try , ” repeated the priest . “You prom- 
ised me that once before ; but you did not keep 
your word.” 

‘ ‘ I will keep my promise this time, your honor,’ ’ 
said Wally ; and the rector could not help admiring 
silently the firmness with which she spoke those 
few words. 

“ What security will you give me? ” said he. 

Wally laid her hand on Joseph’s wounded chest ; 
and two tears dropped from her eyes. ‘ ‘ No prom- 
ises could have said more. The rector was silent : 
he knew now that she could say no more. 

The sick man turned round, and murmured a 
few unintelligible words. 

Wally laid a fresh bandage on his brow. He 
half opened his eyes, but closed them soon again, 
and fell into the same deathlike stupor. “ If 
only the physician would come !” said Wally, 
seating herself on a bench b}^ the bed. “ What 
time is it?” 

The priest glanced at the clock. “When did 
you send for him? ” 

“ About five o’clock.” 

“ Then he could not yet be here. It is only 
ten o’clock ; and it takes three hours to reach 
Solden.” 

“ Only ten o’clock! ” repeated Wally softly; 
and the priest was filled with pity as he watched 
her sitting so quietly, with her folded hands in her 
lap, and her heart beating loudly in her breast. 

He bent over the sick man, and felt his head 
14 


210 


GEIEB -WALLY; 


and his hands. “ I think you may feel comforted, 
Wally : he does not appear to me to be dying.’’ 

Wally did not move, but stared blankly before 
her. ‘‘ If the doctor says he can live, I desire 
nothing else in this world.” 

‘ ‘ That is right, Wally : I like to hear you speak 
so,” said the priest kindly. ‘ ‘ And now, tell me, 
how was Joseph saved : that will make the time 
seem shorter until the doctor comes.” 

“ There is not much to tell,” answered Wally 
shortly. 

“Well, the men of Sonneplatten deserve great 
praise for such a noble de^,” said the priest. 
“ Were you not there? ” 

“ Certainly ! ” 

“ Well, then, do not be so silent. I met no one 
as I came here, and have heard nothing about it 
alL Who brought him up ? ” 

“I did.” 

“Lord have mercy upon me! You, Wally! 
you alone?” cried the old man, looking at 
Wally in amazement. 

“Yes, I!” 

“ But how did you do it? ” 

“ They let me down by a rope ; and I found him 
caught between the rock and a pine-tree. Had the 
tree not been there, he would have fallen into the 
Ache, and he could never have been saved.” 

“ Child, that is a great act! ” cried the rector 
enthusiastically. 

“Yes,” said she quietly and almost harshly. 
“ As I had him thrown over, I had to fetch him 
up again.” 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 211 


“ Certainly: you could do no less/’ said the 
priest, struggling with his emotion. “But it is, 
nevertheless, an act of atonement which must 
lessen j-our sin.” 

“ That is no matter,” said Wally, shaking her 
head. “ If he dies, I will have killed him all the 
same.” 

“ True. But you will have given your life for 
his : you will have exposed yourself to save him : 
as far as you could, you will have endeavored to 
atone for your wickedness. We must leave the 
result in God’s hands.” 

Wally moaned deeply. She could not be com- 
forted by the priest’s words. “We must com- 
mit all to Him,” repeated she from her broken 
heart. 

The eye of the servant of God rested on her 
joyfully. God would not abandon this soul, in 
spite of its sin and failings. He was very old ; 
but he had never met her equal in sin, as well as 
in goodness. 

He watched the sick man, shaking his fist in his 
delirium. It nearly angered him, that this man 
should reject almost the best that nature could 
offer him, — such love ; that he, by his reserve, 
was hardening a heart so grandly created, and 
capable of such self-sacrifice. 

“ You silly fellow ! ’’^muttered he in a tone of 
annoyance. 

Wally raised her head interrogatively : she had 
not understood him. 

Some one knocked at the door ; and the doctoi 
entered. 


212 


GEIEB-WALLY; 


Wally trembled so, that she had to cling to the 
bedpost. Here was the man who was to speak 
either words of salvation or condemnation for- 
ever. Many people followed him in to hear his 
verdict ; but he sent them all out. ‘ ‘ This is no 
place for you all. The sick man must have en- 
tire quiet,’’ said he calmly, locking the door, 
lie said but little. As he took off the bandage 
from his head, he muttered between his teeth, 
“ Here is foul play again.” 

Wally stood by, pale and motionless as a 
statue. The priest purposely did not watch her, 
as he feared she might lose her self-control. 

The examination began. A terrible silence 
reigned in the little room. Wally stood by the 
window, as the doctor examined the mangled 
body, and felt it all over. She had picked some- 
thing off the floor ; and, holding it convulsively in 
her clasped hands, she pressed it, as though kiss- 
ing it, to her lips. It was the head of Christ, 
crowned with thorns, which she had broken in 
the night. Forgive, forgive!” prayed she in 
deathly terror. ‘ ‘ Have mercy upon me ! I do 
not deserve it. But let thy pity be greater than 
my sin ! ” 

‘‘None of the wounds are fatal,” said the doc- 
tor in his abrupt manner. “ This fellow must 
have the bones of a giant*” 

Wally’s strength now forsook her. The pent- 
up floods broke forth ; and, sobbing loudly, she 
fell on her knees by the bed, and buried her face 
in the pillow. 

“ Gk)d be praised ! God be praised I ” 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 213 


“What is the matter with her?’’ asked the 
doctor. The priest gave him a sign, which he 
understood. 

“ Control yom’self, high-peasant, and assist me 
with these bandages,” said he. 

Immediately Wally sprang^ up, wiped the tears 
from her eyes, and set helpfully to work. 

The priest followed her every movement with 
secret pleasure, as she helped the doctor so clev- 
erly and so gently, like a sister of mercy. She 
no longer trembled or wept. She worked calmly 
and peacefully, — a real labor of love. An ex- 
j)ression of hope lay on her brow, — hope in the 
midst of her anguish ; so that the rector hardly 
recognized her. 

“She will become changed: she will!’^ said 
he joyfully to himself, as a gardener who sees 
new buds blossoming on a favorite plant which 
he had abandoned. When the doctor had finished 
the operation, and arranged every thing, he de- 
parted with the priest, leaving Wally alone with 
Joseph. She seated herself on the bench, and 
rested her arms on her knees. He was now 
breathing quietly and regularly. His hand lay 
close to hers on the bedquilt; and she might 
readily have kissed it without leaving her place. 
But she did not do it. She felt as if she no 
longer dared to touch one of his fingers. 

Had he been dead or dying, she would have 
covered him with kisses, as she had done before, 

I when she had considered him doomed. The dead 
i man had belonged to her ; but she had no right to 
the living. He was dead to her when the doctor 


214 


GEIER-WALLY; 


had said he would live ; and she buried him in the 
agony of her heart, while she received the mes- 
sage of his recovery as a message of salvation. 
Thus she remained for some time, motionless, 
with her eyes fixed on Joseph’s pale, handsome 
face. She suffered what a human heart can 
suffer ; but she endured it patiently. She did 
not moan or complain : she did not clinch her 
fist as formerly in the fury of her grief. She had 
learned the hardest lesson of all in that moment : 
she had learned to be patient. What right would 
she have had, laden with sin, to complain? What 
more did she deserve ? How could she still crave 
him as her own, when she had nearly killed 
him ? How could she now raise her eyes to his ? 
No, she would no longer repine. “ O God ! let 
me suffer as thou wilt. No punishment can be 
too great for me,” prayed she, bending her head 
humbly over her hands. 

The door was torn open at that instant ; and a ‘ 
girl rushed in past Wally, and threw herself, 
bathed in tears, on Joseph, crying, “ Joseph, my 
Joseph!” 

It was Afra. ■ 

Wally sprang up as though stung by a serpent, j 
The struggle lasted for a second, — the last, the 
hardest of all. She clasped her arms about her- 
self, to hold herself back from dragging the 
maiden away from the bed, from Joseph. She ; 
stood thus for a time, while Afra sobbed violently i 
over the sick man ; then her arms fell down pow- i 
erless ; and the cold drops of perspiration rose on j 
her forehead. What should she do ? Afra had j 
right on her side. > 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 215 


“ Afra,” said she gently, “ if you love Joseph, 
be quiet and calm, and do not make such a noise. 
The doctor said he must have quiet.’’ 

‘ ‘ Who can be quiet here ? If one has a heart 
in one’s body, who can help crying on seeing the 
poor fellow in such a condition?” moaned Afra. 
“You are all very well: of course, you can be 
quiet. You do not love him as I do. Joseph 
is my all. If he dies, I am alone in the wwld. 

O Joseph, dear Joseph! Wake up, look at me 
only once ; say a word to me ! ” and she shook 
him in her arms. 

A slight groan arose from Joseph’s chest ; and 
he murmured something. 

Wally then approached Afra, and laid her hand 
firmly on her arm, without changing a muscle of 
her pale face. 

“ Now, I will tell you what, Afra. Joseph is 
here under my care ; and I am responsible for him, 
and that every thing should be done according to 
the doctor’s orders. You are in my house, and 
if you do not do as I wish, and leave Joseph in 
peace, as the doctor desired, I will make use of 
my power as mistress of this house, and send you 
away until you can control yourself, and under- 
take the care of Joseph; then,” her voice trem- 
bled, — “ then I will leave him to you.” 

“ Oh, you wicked girl I ” cried Afra excitedly. 
“Because I am weeping over Joseph, you wish * 
to send me away. Do you think that every one 
has as hard a heart as you, and can look on such 
suffering without more feeling than a block of 
wood? Let me go ! I have more right to Joseph 


216 


GEIEU-WALLT; 


thiin you have ; and, if you object to my crying, 1 
will take him away, and carry him home. There, 
at all events, I can weep as much as I like. I 
am only a poor girl ; but, even should I be 
obliged to work all my life long, I w'ould rather 
take care of him in my own little room than 
allow myself to be turned away by you, you 
proud high-peasant ! ’ ’ 

Wally dropped Afra’s arm. She stood before 
her. Her face was very pale. An expression 
of anguish played about her mouth; and Afra 
dropped her eyes in shame, as though she real- 
ized the injustice of her words. 

“ Afra,” said Wally, “ you need not be so 
disagreeable to me. I do not deserve it from 
you ; for I rescued him from the ravine for you, 
not for myself. He will live for you, not for me. 
See here, Afra. An horn* ago, rather than allow 
3 'Ou to approach this bed, I would have killed 
you. But now, all that was hard in me is 
broken, — my defiance, and my pride, and — my 
heart,” said she softly to herself. “ And now 1 
willingl}^ yield to j^ou ; for he loves you, and 
scorns me. You do not need to carry away this 
poor sick bo 3 \ Sta}^ quietly by his side : I will 
rather leave him. I should have gone at any 
rate. You may stop here at the high-farm as 
long as 3 w like. I will arrange all with him to 
whom it belongs. I will, besides, provide for you 
and care for you ; for you are both poor, and can- 
not marry on love. Joseph may then, perhaps, 
some day bless the Geier-Wally.” 

“Wally, Wally!” exclaimed Afra. “Lord 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 217 


J esus ! what do you mean ? I beseech you — 

0 Joseph, Joseph ! if I might only speak ! ’’ 

“Never mind,'' said Wally. “Be calm for 

Joseph’s sake: do be quiet! Let me go now, 
and do not interfere with me. I must go : do 
not prevent me ! I ask only one thing in reward 
for what I am now doing, — watch over him well. 
Promise me this, so that I may depart in peace.” 

“ Wally,” begged Afra, “ do not go I Lord, 
what will Joseph say, when he learns that we 
have driven you from your own house? ” 

“ Spare your words,” said Wally sternly. 
“ Come what will, when once I have said a thing, 

1 never change.” 

She went to her coffer, and, taking out all her 
clothes, she wrapped them up in a bundle, and 
threw it over her shoulder. 

Then, taking a roll of linen from a small box, 
“Look here, Afra,” said she: “Here is some 
fine old linen, you will require it for bandages ; 
and this is coarser, for lint. The doctor will 
need it to-night when he returns. Here are the 
scissors ; and you must cut it in strips of about 
a finger long. Do it carefully, do you hear? 
Every fifteen minutes, j^ou must lay a fresh band- 
age on his head, to cool it. May I rely on you 
not to neglect this ? Just think, if, after I had 
brought him up from the bottom of the precipice, 
I lived to see that you, you had neglected to 
nurse him, — here in his bed I And remember, 
he must lie with his head raised up, so as to pre- 
vent the blood rushing to it. Shake his pillows 
every now and then. There, I think that is all • 


218 


GEIEB -WALLY; 


I recollect nothing further just now. 0 God ! 
you will be unable to lift him, and put him down 
as I can : you have not strength enough. Call 
Klettenmaier to your assistance : he is true. 
And so I leave him in your hands.” Her voice 
faltered ; her knees trembled ; she could scarcely 
hold the bundle in her hand. She cast one last 
look towards the sick man, “ God bless you ! ” 
And she had gone. 

The priest was conversing outside with Klet- 
tenmaier. 

Wally approached them. 

“Klettenmaier,” called she in the servant’s 
ear, “ go in, and help Afra nurse Joseph. She 
has taken my place. Joseph remains here ; and 
I leave the high-farm. You are all to look upon 
him as your master, and obey him as you would 
me, until I return ; and beware if he then have 
cause for complaint. Say this to the entire 
household.” 

Klettenmaier understood, and shook his head ; 
for he dared ask no questions. “ Farewell, mis- 
tress,” said he. “ Come back soon.” 

“ Never ! ” said Wally softly. 

Klettenmaier went into the house. Wally 
stood before the priest, and did not shrink from 
his penetrating gaze. 

“ I have nothing more of my own for which I 
care, except the vulture,” said she, exhausted; 
“ but I cannot give it up. It must go with me. 
— Come, Hansel,” said she coaxingly. The bird 
sat drowsily, and half asleep, on the railing. It 
flew to her with great difficulty. 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 219 


“ You must learn to fly again, Hansel. We 
are going away once more.’’ 

“ Wally,” said the rector anxiously, “ what do 
you mean to do? ” 

“ Your honor, I must leave this. Afra is in 
there. Now 3^ou must see that I cannot remain 
here. I will do every thing. I will wander naked 
and alone on the highways, and give up all to 
him, — all. But I could not bear to see him 
caressing Afra. I could not bear it, — any thing 
but that.” 

She pressed her teeth tightly together to keep 
back the tears, which were again ready to flow. 

‘ ‘ And are you. really going to give him your 
house and home? Do you realize what you are 
doing, my child ? ’ ’ 

‘‘The high-farm can never be mine, your 
honor. I know since yesterday, that, if Vincenz 
chose to claim it, it might be his. But the 
remainder of my fortune is to be Joseph’s. If, 
through me, he is crippled, and can, therefore, no 
longer work for his living, it is my bounden duty 
to provide for him.” 

‘ ‘ How is it possible ? ’ ’ cried the priest. ‘ ‘ Did 
your father disinherit j^ou? ” 

“ What do I care for property and for houses? 
The house where I belong is always ready,” 
said Wally. 

“ Child,” said the rector nervously, “ I hope 
that you do not intend to hurt j^ourseif? ” 

“ No, your honor ; not now. I see now how 
right you all are, and that God Almighty will 
not be trifled with. Perhaps, when he sees that 


220 


GEIER-WALLY; 


I earnestly repent, he will have mercy, and will 
grant me peace. 

“ Blessed be this hour, hard as it has been ; 
for it has changed you. Now, Wally, you are 
truly great. But where are you going, my child? 
Are you going into a convent ? Shall I take you 
to the Carmelite sisters 

“ No, your honor. That would never suit the 
Geier-Wally. I cannot be shut up in a cell. I 
will die under God’s open sky, as I have lived. 
I should imagine that our Lord could not get 
through those thick walls. I will repent and 
pray, as if in a church ; but I must be surrounded 
by rocks and clouds. The wind must whistle 
around me, or I shall die. Do you understand 
me? ” 

“ Yes, Wally : I see it all. And it would be 
folly to try and bind j^ou down. But where are 
you going ? ’ ’ 

“ I am going back to my father Mm’zoll. My 
only home is there.” 

“Do as you desire,” said the priest. “Go, 
in God’s name, my child ! I part calmly from 
3^ou ; for now, wherever you go, you are returning 
to yoiu’ Father.” 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 221 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE MESSAGE OP PARDON. 

IGrH up on the lonely heights, near her 
father of stone, sits once more the 
lonely, cast-off child of man, as though 
banished here, like a part of the giddy 
rock from which she looks down into the little 
world below, which had no space for the large, 
strange heart which had ripened in the wilder- 
ness and the glacier sea. Cast off and aban- 
doned by man, her dream has come true : the ^ 
mountain adopted her as its child. 

She belongs to the mountain. Her home is in 
the midst of snow and ice. And yet she cannot 
harden herself ; and her poor, tender human heart 
is bleeding to death in silence here above, in the 
world of ice. 

Two bright moons have shone since the da}^ on 
which W ally last sought refuge here . She had laid 
eyes since then on no inhabitant of the valle3^ 
Once only the priest had dragged his aged limbs 
up to her to tell her of Joseph’s recover}’, also 
that news had been received from Ital3^ Vin- 
cenz had killed himself shortly after his arrival 
there, and left her all his possessions. 

On hearing it, she folded her hands across her 
knees, and said softly, “He is happy. All is 
over,” as though in envy. 




222 


GEIER-WALLY; 


“ What will you do now with all your mon- 
ey? ” the priest had asked. “Who is to watch 
over your many possessions ? You cannot allow 
them to be ruined.’’ 

“ All my money? What good does it do me? 
I cannot purchase for myself one happy hour 
with it. After a time, when I have thought it 
over, I will go down to Triest, and make over my 
property to Joseph according to the law. I 
shall keep only as much as I require to build, 
farther on in the valley, a small house for my use 
in the winter. But now I must be quiet: at 
present I can attend to nothing. Watch over 
my property, your honor, and see that the ser- 
vants receive their due, and give to the poor 
what they need. From this day forward, there 
shall be no more poor in Sonneplatten.” 

Thus briefly had she settled her affairs, and 
now only waited until her hour should come, — 
the hour of release. 

It seemed as though God had said to her, 
through the mouth of the priest, — 

“Thou shalt not come to me until I myself 
go for thee.” 

And so she waited until he should come for 
her. But how long ! What an awful time might 
elapse before He saw flt to call her to him ! 

She looked on her powerful frame : it was not 
built for an early death. And yet her only hope 
was death. She realized that she could not end 
her life by violence ; for she had consecrated it to 
penitence. But she thought, she might assist 
God to hasten her release when he should judge 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 223 

it right. And so she did all in her power to 
harm her constitution. 

It would not be suicide, if she only took as 
much nourishment daity as she required to keep 
herself from d3dng of hunger ; (did not fasting 
enter into penitence ?) or if she exposed herself 
to wind and rain, when even the vulture took refuge 
in a cleft in the rock ; so that she suffered terribly 
from the effects of snow, wet, and privations. 

It was not suicide when she climbed over rocks 
on which no human foot had ever trodden, only 
to give God the opportunity of throwing her over, 
if he chose to do so. 

She felt her strength diminishing, and watched 
her beautiful figure losing its roundness, with a 
kind of terrible joj^ She often sank down ex- 
hausted, after her wanderings ; and, when she 
ascended any thing, her knees shook, and her 
breath seemed to have gone. 

Thus she sat one day on one of Murzoll’s high- 
est peaks. Blocks of ice surrounded her on every 
side. It looked like a gravejmrd in mid-winter, 
when the snow-covered tombstones, side by side, 
are no longer decorated with vines or fiowers. 
The sea of ice, with its frozen waves, lay at her 
feet : the stillness of death hung over her. The 
distant hills were enveloped in the noonday mist. 
Similaun, near by, was covered with a small, trans- 
parent cloud, nestling up to it, first rising, and 
then sinking, finally tearing itself to pieces on 
the sharp rock, and disappearing. 

Wally was resting on her elbow ; and her eye 
mechanically followed the ever-changing cloud. 


224 


GEIER-WALLY; 


The bright sun shone down on her head. The 
hawk was perched quite close to her, pecking 
wearily at its feathers, and unfolding its pinions. 
Suddenly it became restless, turned its head, as 
though listening, projected its neck, and flew up 
higher. 

Wally raised herself slightly, to see what had 
disturbed the bii’d. There, in the middle of the 
glacier sea, came towards her a human flgure. 
He approached the rock on which Wally sat. 
She recognized the dark eyes, the black beard, and 
saw him smile, and greet her jo3dully. She also 
heard the jodler which he sent forth, as, long 
before, she had looked down on him from Sonne- 
platten, when he had accompanied the stranger 
through the ravine. She had then been a hope- 
ful, innocent child, not yet abandoned and cursed 
by her father, not yet an incendiary, or a murder- 
ess. As a place is suddenly illuminated by a 
flash of lightning, revealing its hills and valleys, 
all her sins rose before her ; and she realized the 
greatness of her fall. 

What had she been then ? and what was she 
now ? What was he seeking, — he who had then 
left her alone, — what was he now seeking from 
the living dead? 

She slipped from her seat in inexpressible terror. 
“ Good God ! he is coming ! ’’ cried she aloud, and 
clung in alarm to the rock, as though it had been 
the hand of her father of stone. “ Joseph, stay 
down there ! Do not come up. For God’s sake, 
turn away, depart ! I must not see 3^ou ! I will 
not see 3^011 ! ’ ’ But Joseph had hastily ascended 


OEy A TALE OF THE TYROL. 225 


the rock, and drew near to her. Wally hid her 
face in the stone, and stretched out her hand 
towards him. 

‘‘ Can I be nowhere alone?” cried she, trem- 
bling all over in her excitement. “ Do you not 
hear? You are to leave me alone. You .can 
have nothing to do with me. I am dead, equal 
to dead ! Oh ! why can I not die ? ” 

“Wa%, Wally, are you beside yourself?” 
cried Joseph, tearing her from the rock like moss. 
“ Look at me, Wally, for God’s sake ! Why do 
you not wish to see me? I am Joseph, whose 
life you saved. One does not do such a thing for 
a person one dislikes.” 

He held her in his arms. She had fallen on 
one knee, and could neither advance nor retreat. 
She could not struggle. She was no longer the 
Wally of old : she was weak and feeble. She 
sank as if under the last blow, like an animal 
before the altar of sacrifice. 

“ Lord Jesus, girl, how you look ! — as if you 
were dying. Is this still the proud high-peasant ? 
Wally, Wally, say something ; think a moment. 
This is the result of living like a savage : you 
forget how to speak. You have become quite 
weak. Come, rest on me : I will lead you down 
to your hut. I am myself no giant ; but I have 
a wee bit more strength than you. Come ! One 
becomes very giddy up here ; and I have much 
to say to you, Wally, — much.” Wally allowed 
herself almost involuntarily to be led down. 
Silently he conducted her across the sea of ice, 
down towards her hut» The shepherd was there 
15 


226 


GEIER -WALLY; 


at that moment, and he stopped ; and she sanli 
on the mountain grass. She remained there 
silently and calmlj^ with her hands folded. It 
was, no doubt, God’s will. He had sent him to 
try her ; and she could only pray fervently for 
help. 

Joseph lay down beside her, resting his chin 
on his hand, and looked into her pained face 
with sparkling eyes. “ I have a great deal to 
make up, Wally,” said he earnestly. “And I 
should have come here long ago, had the doctor 
and the priest allowed me : but they said it might 
cost me my life, if I began so soon to climb the 
hills again ; and so I thought it would be a pity, 
when — I want now to live for the first time, 
Wally,” taking hold of her hand” — since you 
rescued me from death ; for, when I heard of it, 
I knew how you felt, and I feel in the same way, 
Wally.” He pressed her hand gently. 

Wally tore it away from him in positive terror. 
She almost lost her breath. 

“ Joseph, now I know what you are after. You 
think, that, because I saved 3^our life, you must 
love me out of gratitude, and perchance leave 
Afra in the lurch. Joseph, that I will not allow ; 
for, as God is above, I am miserable and wicked, 
but 3^et not wicked enough to accept a reward for 
what I do not deserve, or a heart, — a heart 
which I should have to rob another of. No, the 
Geier-Wall^^ has not 3^et come to this, whatever 
she may already have done. Thanks be to God, 
that there is some sin left which I am incapable 
of doing,” added she in a low tone to herself. 


I 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 227 


She arose, gathering all her strength together, 
and started to go to the hut, where the shepherd 
was quietly smoking his pipe. But Joseph held 
her back. “Wally, listen to me first.” 

“ No, Joseph,” said she with her pale lips, but 
still proudly, “ not another word. I thanl?; you 
for your kind intention ; but you do not know me. ” 

“ Wally, I tell you that you must listen to me. 
Do you hear? You must!” He laid his hand 
on her shoulder, and cast on her such an imperi- 
ous look, that she could no longer offer any 
resistance. 

“ Well, speak,” said she faintly, seating her- 
self away from.him, on a stone. 

•“ That is right: now I see that you can also 
obey,” said he, smiling good-naturedly. 

He stretched out his handsome figure on the 
grass, and rested his elbow on his knapsack, which 
he had taken off*. His breath passed over Wally 
as he spoke. She sat motionless, with a down- 
cast look. Every now and then the struggle 
within her would cause the blood to rise to her 
face ; but outwardly she remained calm, almost 
numb. 

“ Listen, Wally : I will tell you all about it,” 
continued Joseph. “ I never could endure you, 
even although I did not know you. I heard so 
much of you, of your wild and savage nature, 
that I disliked you, and made up my mind to 
have nothing to do with you. Every now and 
then I saw what a beautifid, handsome girl you 
were; but I refused to acknowledge it. So I 
always avoided you until the discussion with Afra. 


228 


GEIER-WALLY; 


But I could not allow that to pass unrevenged ; 
for you know what is done to Afra is done to 
me. When Afra is hurt, it cuts me to the heart ; 
for you know — well, I can keep it no longer : 
my mother will forgive me in her grave. Afra is 
my sister.’’ 

Wally started, and looked at him, as if in a 
trance. He was silent for an instant, and wiped 
his forehead with his shirt-sleeve. “I should 
not speak of it ; but you must know it, and you 
will not repeat it. My mother confessed to me 
on her deathbed, that, before she had known my 
father, she had had a child in Vintschgau ; and I 
pledged her my word to care for the girl like a 
brother. Therefore I went to fetch her, and 
brought her over to the Lamb fnn, that I might 
be near her. We both resolved to keep this secret, 
so as not to injure our mother’s memory. Now 
do you not understand that I could not allow 
my sister to be insulted, and that I took her 
part against every one? ” 

Wally sat in her place like a statue, and sti’ug- 
gled for breath. All about her seemed to b^e 
turning. She now understood every thing, and 
why Afra had spoken as she did at Joseph’s bed- 
side. She held her head with both her hands, 
as though unable to grasp it all. If this were 
really so, how much greater would her sin be ! 
She had tried to kill, not the heartless man who 
had insulted heron account of a common servant- 
girl, but a brother who was only doing his duty. 
She had tried to deprive a poor orphan of her 
sole support, in a fit of blind jealousy. ‘ ‘ God I 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 229 


if it had happened! said she to herself. She 
grew faint ; and, hiding her face in her hands, 
she groaned heavily. 

Joseph, not perceiving her emotion, continued, 
‘ ‘ Therefore was it that I swore before every one 
in the Lamb Inn to put down your pride, and 
insult you as you did Afra. And they aided me 
in my plan ; for Afra was much opposed to it. 
All happened as I desired ; but when yon rested 
on my heart after our sti’uggle, and I kissed you, 
I felt as if I were on fire. I would have nothing 
more to say to you ; for we had been enemies for 
so long. But it grew worse and worse every 
hour. I dreamed of you all night, and finally I 
cried loudl}^ for you, and sprang from my bed in 
my excitement.” 

“Stop, stop!” cried Wally, with her face 
suffused with blushes. 

But he continued eagerly, “For that reason, 
did I arise in the middle of the night, and wan- 
dered towards Sonneplatten. I may as well tell 
you. I wanted to knock at your window before 
daylight ; and, when you should open it to see 
who was there, I wanted to beg your pardon a 
thousand times, — a thousand times ! Just then 
a bullet whizzed by my head ; and immediately 
afterwards one lodged in my shoulder ; and, as I 
staggered, some one came behind me, and knocked 
me over the edge. I thought that all was at an 
end, and that I could no longer love or live, 
when you came to me, like an angel, took pity 
on me, and brought me up, and nursed me. O 
Wally! ” He threw himself at Wally’s feet, 


230 


GEIER-WALLY; 


laid his clasped hands in her lap. “Wally, I 
cannot thank you as I would ; but all the love of 
all mankind cannot equal mine for you.’’ 

Wallj^’s strength now gave way entirely ; and, 
with a heart-rending shriek, she pushed him away 
from her, throwing herself on the ground in wild 
despair. ‘ ‘ Oh, I might have been so happy ! 
And now all is over — all, all ! 

“Wally, for God’s sake! I believe you are 
crazy. What is over? If you and I love one 
another, is not every thing right? ” 

“O Joseph, Joseph! you do not know. We 
can never be united. Oh ! you do not know. I 
am cast off and condemned. I may never become 
your wife. Trample me under your feet ! Kill 
me ! It was I who had you thrown over the 
precipice ! ” 

Joseph drew back at these awful words. He 
was not sure that Wally was in her right] mind. 
He sprang up, and looked at her in alarm. 

“ Joseph,” whispered Wally, clasping her 
hands about his knee, “ since I first knew you, I 
have loved you ; and it was on your account that 
my father banished me to the Hochjoch. For 
your sake I set fire to his house, and wandered 
for three years in the wilderness. I preferred suf- 
fering from hunger and cold, even death, sooner 
than marry any one else. Pure jealousy made 
me treat iH*ra so badly. I thought her your affi- 
anced wife, and imagined that she was taking you 
from me. After many years, you came to me. I 
had waited for you so long ! You invited me to 
the dance like a bridegroom. My heart almost 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 231 


broke with joy ; and I allowed you to embrace me 
as though I were your bride. But you — you 
mocked me before every one : you scorned me, 
after all my love and trust in you, in return for 
all that I had borne for your sake. My feelings 
were entirely changed ; and I told Vincenz to kill 
you.” 

Joseph hid his face in his hands, and said 
softly, ‘‘ That is awful ! ” 

“ I repented in the night,” said Wally, “ and 
went out to try and prevent it : but it was done. 
And now you tell me that j^ou loved me ; and all 
might have been right, had I been able to stand 
before you with a clear conscience. Oh ! I thought 
that no one could do me any greater injury than 
3"ou did; but it was nothing compared to the 
harm I did myself. But I deserve it, I deserve 
it!” 

All was still for some time. Wally had pressed 
her forehead against Joseph’s knee. She was 
in a terrible state of anguish. After a few min- 
utes, a hand was placed under her chin, and her 
face was gently raised. Joseph was looking at 
her with a strange expression in his large eyes. 
“ You poor Wally I ” said he softly. 

“ Joseph, Joseph, do not be so good to me I ” 
faltered she. “ Take up your gun, and kill me. 
I will stand quite still, and not shrink, and will 
thank you for it.” 

He raised her from the ground, and laid her 
head on his breast, smoothing her hair, and im- 
printed on her lips a fervent kiss. “ And I love 
you all the same,” cried he aloud ; and the 
echo joyfully answered from the walls of ice. 


232 


GEIEli -WALLY; 


And Wally stood there, hardly sensible of 
what he had said ; silent, almost crushed by the 
great weight of her joy. 

Joseph, is it possible ? Can you forgive me ? 
Can God forgive me?’' whispered she, breath- 
less. 

“Wally, whoever could still be angry after 
hearing you speak, and looking on yom pale 
face, must have a heart of rock. I am a hard 
fellow ; but I cannot do it.” 

“O my God!” said Wally, with the tears 
streaming from her eyes. “ When I think that 
I tried to stop this heart beating ! ’ ’ She 
wrung her hands in agony. ‘ ‘ O Joseph ! the 
kinder and more tender you are to me, the more 
I am filled with grief. Oh, I shall never find 
rest, either in heaven or on earth I I will be 
your servant, not your wife. I will sleep on your 
threshold, not by your side. I will work for 
you and serve 3^ou, and try and fulfil your every 
desire. When you beat me, I will kiss your 
hand ; and, when you trample me under foot, I 
will cling to you, and pray and entreat you, 
until you forgive me. I will be content with a 
look or a word from you : even that will be more 
than I merit.” 

“And do you think that I can be satisfied 
therewith?” said Joseph warmly. “Do you 
think that a look or a word would be enough for 
me? Do 3^ou think that I could endure seeing 
you lying on the threshold while I lay in the 
house? Do you not think that I would open 
the door, and bring you in? And, lastly, do you 


OR, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 233 


think that you would remain outside when I called 
you in? 

Wally tried to free herself from his grasp^ 
and hid her blushing face from him. 

“Be quiet, my darling,’’ continued Joseph in 
his beautiful, deep voice, drawing her towards 
him, — “be quiet, and receive joyfully what oiu* 
Father in heaven sends j^ou ; j^ou can do so ; for 
you deserve it. Do not worry yourself any 
more ; for God knows that I have done much to 
harm and excite you by rewarding your great 
love and trust by scorn and injustice. I do not 
wonder that your patience was tried : you cannot 
help it. Are you not the Geier- Wally? But 
you repented, and saved my life, regardless of 
yourself, when no man could summon up cour- 
age enough for it. You carried me into your 
room, and cared for me, until Afra stupidly came 
and drove you away, because you thought her 
mine. You afterwards tried to give us all your 
fortune, that we might marry on it, as you 
thought. You then retired into the wilderness 
with your own great sorrow. You poor child! 
you have never had any thing but pain through 
me since you first met me. And are we not to be 
happy? and am I not to love you? No, Wally, 
all the world may rise against 3"OU, I shall not 
care. I will take you to my heart, and you shall 
remain unharmed.” 

“ And is it really true? Will you take me to 
your great and noble heart in the midst of my 
need and shame? Are you not afraid of the 
Geier- Wally, who has brought so much trouble 
on eveiy one? ” 


234 


GEIER-WALLY; 


“Shall I, the bear-slayer, be afraid of the 
Geier-Wally? No, my dearest child ! And, even 
were you much more wild than you are, I should 
not be afraid of you ; for, as I once told you in 
anger, I will master you : but now I tell you so 
in love. And even if I were unable to master 
you, and if I knew, that, after fourteen days, you 
would try to kill me, I would not give you up : I 
could not ! I have many times climbed after a 
chamois, at the risk of my life ; and yet I did 
not abandon it. And are not you worth as much 
to me as a chamois, my own darling? Wally, 
for one hour in which you are as you have been 
to-day, when you lean on me, and look at me as 
you do, I would gladly die.’’ He pressed her 
to his heart. “ Two weeks from to-day you 
shall be my wife, and then you will not injure 
me : I know it, for now I know your heart.” 

Wally arose, and lifted her arms to heaven : 
“O God almighty and good, all my life long 
will I praise and bless thee ; for what thou hast 
now sent me is more than earthly joy : it is the 
message of pardon ! ” 

Night came on rapidly. The full moon shone 
peacefully on the mountain ; the shades of even- 
ing la}^ over the valleys. It was too late to 
descend to-day. 

They went into the hut, made a fire, and sat 
down by the hearth. After years of silence, they 
had much to discuss. 

The vulture dreamed on the roof, it was build- 
ing a nest. The wind blew softly around the 
hut. A star twinkled in the heavens, and shone 
tlirough the open casement. 


Or, a tale of the tyrol. 235 


Wally and Joseph stood before the door of the 
hut on the following morning, ready for the 
descent. 

“God bless you, Father Murzoll ! ” said 
Wally ; and a tear glistened on her cheek in the 
early morning light. “I shall never come up 
to you again ; my happiness is now below : but 
still I thank you for giving me shelter while I 
was homeless. And you, old hut, you will now 
be empty ; but I will think of you when I sit in 
the warm room with my husband, and remember 
how I wept and shivered under- your roof on 
many a lonely night ; and I will ever be humble 
and grateful.” 

She turned around, and placed her arm in Jo- 
seph’s. “ Come, Joseph, we must be at our 
dear rector’s, in Heiligkreuz, before noon.” 

“Yes, come : I will take you home, my lovely 
bride ! Now, you fairies, I have her ; and she is 
mine. I defy you, and all your evil spirits ! ” 

He sent forth a loud jodler, which resounded 
through the distant hills, like a hymn of praise. 

“ Be quiet,” said Wally, placing her hand on 
his mouth in terror. “ Do not call them out ! ” 
He then smiled brightly. 

“ Oh, no! There are no more fairies or evil 
spirits. God reigns alone.” 

She once more looked back. The snow-covered 
peaks glittered in the light of the rising sun. 
“It was beautiful up there,” said she reluc- 
tantly. 

“ Are you soiTy to go down? ” asked Joseph. 

“ If you went down into the depths of the 


236 


GEIER-WALLY; 


earth with me, where the sun never penetrates, 
I would go, and never complain, or ask why or 
wherefore,” said she ; and her voice was so tender, 
that Joseph’s eyes filled with tears. 

Something fiew down from the roof of the hut. 
“ Oh, my Hansel ! I had almost forgotten you,” 
cried Wally. “But,” saidshe smilingly to Joseph, 
“ you must now agree : you are brothers ; for did 
I not fetch you from the rock as well as my 
bird?” 

And so they descended. It was a small bridal 
procession ; no ornament but those created by the 
ra3^s of the sun on their brow, no followers but 
the hawk, which fiew round about their heads : 
but their hearts were full of a hardly-purchased, 
unspeakable jo}^ 


High up on the Sonneplatten, where the wild 
maiden once looked down below dreamily, and 
where she had afterwards saved the life of her 
lover, a solitaiy cross is now raised, touching the 
blue sky. 

The inhabitants of the neighboring villages 
erected it to the memory of the Geier-Wally and 
the bear-slayer, the benefactors of the whole 
country. 

Wally and Joseph died early ; but their name 
lived on, and will be blessed as long as the Ache 
fiows. The traveller wandering through the 
ravine in the evening, when the angelus is sound- 
ing, and the silvery moon shining on the hills, 
sees, it is true, an aged couple kneeling at 


OB, A TALE OF THE TYROL. 237 

the foot of the cross. It is Afra and Benedict 
Klotz, who often come over from Rofen to pray 
there. Wally had brought their hearts together 
long ago ; and the}^ bless her memory as they 
stand themselves on the brink of the grave. 

In the chasm beneath, the ever-varying mist 
calls up thoughts of the fairies in the traveller’s 
mind. A low wail, emanating from ancient deeds 
of heroism, seerns to come down to him from the 
cross, — that the great must fade as ’well as the 
weak ; but may he not find comfort in the thought 
that the great may die, and yet still live? 

It may be in the glorious sayings of the Nibel- 
ungen Lied, or in the daily life of peasants, such 
as the Geier-Wally, and Joseph the bear-slayer. 
We always find it again : it cannot perish. 


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